Spanish Lullaby
by XenaFan74656
Summary: Jonah/Cesca fic set after the kiss in episode 13...Rated T for the teacher/pupil relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Spanish Lullaby**

_Jonah/Cesca. Opens the day after the kiss at Cesca's house..._

**Part One: Cesca**

_Your fingertips across my skin,_

_The palm trees swaying in the wind, images,_

_You sang me Spanish lullabies,_

_The sweetest sadness in your eyes..._

Cesca has a feeling that the lesson was going to be distinctly awkward. A small part of her was hoping that he wouldn't be there, that he'd taken the day off school. Of course it was a forlorn hope; he wasn't the skiving type.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass panel of the door of her classroom and gave a small shudder. She looked dreadful. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were ringed with dark circles, the legacy of a night spent tossing and turning and fearing the morning. In a way though, looking dreadful was probably a good thing today. It might put him off, convince him that she was too old and worn and haggard for him to even think about, remind him that young, pretty Jess Fisher was far more suitable girlfriend material. At the thought of him with Jess though, she felt a stab of something like jealousy.

In an effort to ignore it, she pushed open the door of the classroom. And there he was. Sitting up very straight in the middle of the front row. His eyes were deep liquid pools and the emotion in them made her gasp. He smiled when he saw her, an easy, carefree grin which lit up his whole face. Without wanting to, without intending to, Cesca felt her own face form itself into a matching smile. For a moment, the rest of the class was forgotten and the two of them existed in a world of their own. Then, sudden and unwelcome, the noise of the other boys in the room shattered their silent communion. With an almost physical effort Cesca dragged her gaze away from his.

She moved rapidly to the front of the room, keeping her eyes on anything, everything but him. She was aware of him all the time though, of his eyes caressing her back as she turned and wrote the date on the board, of him watching the movements of her hands and fingers as she opened the register and laid it on the desk in front of her. She called the names and marked off those present without looking up.

'Finn?'

'Here, Miss.' She ticked the box by his name.

'Kyle?'

'Yes, Miss.' Another tick.

'Ronan?'

'Here, Miss.' And another.

She hesitated. 'Jonah?' She tried to keep her voice neutral, but the word caught in her throat and she sounded nervous even to herself.

'Here, Miss.' She noticed with annoyance that her hand was shaking as she placed a tick next to his name. She couldn't understand why he had this effect on her. He was just a boy in her class, a boy with a crush on her, nothing more. She knew, even as she thought it, that this wasn't entirely true, couldn't help remembering the hunger with which she'd kissed him back...

Cesca mentally shook herself, pulling her attention back to the present. She quickly set the class some work and then retreated behind her desk where she kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the paperwork in front of her, doing everything she could not to think about him.

'Miss Montoya...' His voice was like warm silk.

Swallowing hard, she looked up and met those gentle, liquid eyes. 'Yes, Jonah?' No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make her voice steady.

'Could you help me with question six?'

She wanted to refuse. Moving closer to him was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn't have much choice. She needed to show him that she was his teacher, nothing more, that their relationship was strictly professional and, as his teacher, she had to help him with his work.

'Of course.' This time she purposefully avoided saying his name in an effort to keep her tone detached.

As she walked towards him, through the rows of desks, she could feel her heart beginning to beat faster and blood start to pound in her ears. Her throat was dry suddenly, her breathing fast and shallow. _'Stop it, Cesca!'_ She scolded herself _'He's only a boy, he's just another boy in a class of thirty. That's all he'll ever be to you.'_

'What do you need help with?' She took care to stand to the side of his desk, not in front of him or behind him, not in a position where they might accidentally touch or where she might have to look at him directly. Even as she spoke, she stared only at the book on his desk.

'I don't understand this word here.' He pointed to the page. Her eyes traced the outlines of his strong, muscled hands, his fingers, and suddenly she was assaulted by a memory, white hot and burning. Yesterday those hands had been on her face, her arms, firm and gentle, exploring, touching, stroking. His skin had been so soft...She ached to touch those hands again, just to brush her fingertips against his...

'Miss Montoya?' Jonah was looking at her with concern. He was definitely handling this better than she was.

She flashed him a quick smile and clasped her hands behind her back in an effort to resist temptation. Quickly, she explained the meaning of the word and then turned and stalked back to her desk where she remained for the rest of the lesson, trying desperately not to think about the boy in the front row.

At the end of the lesson, he was one of the crowd of students who clustered around her desk to hand her coursework. As he passed her his essay, his hand lightly touched hers and, before she could stop herself, she gasped as though stung. She wanted to pull her hand away, but something, some magnetic force, made her keep it exactly where it was. His hand was on fire. The feel of it made her throat close up, made something in her stomach turn over. She looked at him then and his eyes were filled with desire and longing. She knew that her own eyes must look exactly the same.

'Cesca...' he whispered, too low for anyone else to hear, but loud enough to startle her from her reverie.

She shook her head minutely and pulled her hand away. 'Just go.' She replied, equally softly.

With a sigh, he turned and left and she felt something inside of her shatter and crumble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two: Jonah**

'Want to come round to mine?' Jess' voice made him jump. He hadn't seen her come up behind him.

'I can't...Homework.' He mumbled.

'We don't have any homework.'

'I've got...extra Spanish.'

'You spend too much time doing Spanish.' Jess was walking beside him now, swinging her bag casually back and forth. 'just come round for a bit.'

He was tempted to. He'd enjoyed the time they'd spent together last term, but his feelings for Jess had never even approached those he had for Cesca.

'Please,' Jess had her head on one side now, trying to look appealing. 'Just come round as a friend, no pressure.'

He knew he should probably say yes. He could use another friend and, as a girlfriend, she was a far more sensible option than his Spanish teacher. He stopped and looked into Jess' eyes. She was smiling, tilting her head forwards with her eyes closed, obviously thinking he was going to kiss her. He turned away. Kissing Jess, being with Jess, even as a friend, felt like cheating on Cesca...Not that he was dating Cesca. In truth he didn't know what was going on with Cesca, but there was the possibility of something wonderful.

Jess opened her eyes and regarded him thoughtfully. 'You're seeing someone else, aren't you.' She said, matter-of-factly.

'Yeah...'

'Who is she? Is it...' Jess paused to think 'Amy Porter?'

Jonah laughed at the absurdity of that suggestion. As if Amy Porter could ever compare to sophisticated, beautiful Cesca. 'Amy's not really my type, Jess.'

'I guess not.' She was laughing too now. 'Is it Lauren?'

'Jess you wouldn't guess who it was in a million years.'

'Vicki MacDonald? Siobhan?' They were walking again now, Jess giggling and naming all the girls in the school, while he shook his head again and again, trying not to laugh.

Finally, they reached the end of his road. Jess put her hands on her hips in mock annoyance. 'You have to tell me now, Jonah. It'll be annoying me all night otherwise.'

'Then you'll have to be annoyed.' He said airily, tossing her a smile. Then he walked away, feeling, for some reason, as if he was walking on air. All those girls she'd named, even Jess herself, suddenly didn't seem attractive anymore. They paled beside the memory of the kiss he'd shared with Cesca.

Once inside his house, Jonah wandered up to his bedroom. No one else was home yet. He dropped his schoolbag on the floor and sat at his desk staring at an open textbook. He had a couple of chapters to read before tomorrow, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to read even a single sentence. Instead, his gaze fell upon his Spanish textbook. He picked it up, thinking about how Cesca had once touched it, held it just as he was doing.

Eventually he realized that sitting there, holding a textbook and dreaming of his Spanish teacher was a little pathetic, so he turned once again to the book he was meant to be reading and again failed to find the motivation to concentrate on the history of Russia c.1900.

Without really realizing what he was doing, he wandered over to the bed and lay down on his back, just staring at the ceiling. All at once Cesca seemed to fill his senses. Visions of her danced before his eyes, he heard her soft, musical voice whisper his name. Hanging from the back of his door was the jacket he'd worn when they kissed. The faint smell of her perfume still clung to it. He reached out and pulled it down from the door and, holding it to his face, breathed in the smell of her.

'Cesca...' he whispered, lost in the memory of the night before. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, knew that it was fine to spend all his time thinking about Jess or any of those other girls Jess had mentioned, but it most definitely wasn't fine to think of a teacher like this. If he was being sensible, he'd pick up his phone right now and call Jess, say he'd changed his mind, he would come round.

Of its own accord, his arm reached out and his fingers closed around the phone. He quickly typed _'I want to see you, please let me see you'_ and found Jess' name in his contacts list. His mind though was suddenly filled with an image of Cesca as she'd looked in the lesson that morning at the moment when their hands brushed. She's gasped and looked at him with eyes filled with longing, eyes which held the promise of a future. Without thinking, he scrolled upwards through his contacts list, until his fingers found Cesca's name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three: Cesca**

Cesca threw her phone across the room in frustration. The message icon flashed on the screen; she knew without looking who it was from. She couldn't read it, shouldn't read it, should just delete his number and yet, and yet...

Giving a small cry of annoyance, she crossed the room in rapid strides and picked up the phone. With shaking, unsure fingers she opened the message and saw that it was indeed from Jonah. She pushed the phone away from her again. _'This has to stop'_ she told herself_ 'it has to stop here and now.' _If she opened the message she knew she'd be unable to resist. There was something about the boy, something alluring and irresistible. But not matter how alluring or irresistible he was, he wasn't worth risking her career for. It wasn't like they could ever have a future together.

What she needed she decided was a distraction. Instead of opening Jonah's message, she scrolled through her contacts list and found Tom's name. He answered immediately.

'Cesca?' He sounded puzzled to hear from her. Unsurprisingly. Their last date hadn't gone too well.

'I was just...' she swallowed, trying to cover her inexplicable nervousness. 'I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink or something. I know it's short notice, so don't worry if you're busy...'

'That's sounds great. See you in half an hour?'

'Sure.' She hung up, taking deep breaths and feeling horribly guilty. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to Tom because she was, it was just that, compared to Jonah...She didn't even let herself finish the thought. An attraction to Jonah was wrong, an attraction to Tom was right. It was as simple as that. With a sigh, she grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

Forty minutes later, she was sat in the pub, staring at Tom's back as he waited for drinks at the bar. Not that she was really seeing him. She'd nearly turned back twice before she even reached the pub and, when she'd seen Tom, she hadn't been able to stop a ball of disappointment rising in her chest. He looked old, haggard, world-weary. He smiled when he saw her, but it wasn't the kind of open, elated smile which Jonah had given her this morning. She'd smiled back, but she'd felt nothing. She still felt nothing as she watched him now. Her breathing remained resolutely steady, her heart refused to speed up, nothing turned over in her stomach.

'It's rude to stare.' Tom was back and smiling, obviously thinking that she'd been charmed by the sight of him.

'Sorry...' she could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks as she took the drink.

'Look at that,' Tom gestured across the room to where Grantly Budgen and Ruby Fry were sat in a corner, talking and laughing earnestly. 'I heard that they're going to the theatre tonight...'

'Like on a date?' Cesca tried to look interested, but she couldn't keep her mind on Grantly and Ruby. Instead, she imagined going to the theatre with Jonah, how he'd look in black tie, how he'd take her arm and whisper in her ear...

'I think it might be a date.' Tom was grinning.

'they make a cute couple,' Cesca knew she sounded distracted.

'There must be something in the air tonight...' Tom was leaning closer now, obviously wanting her to kiss him. Hastily, she took a sip of her drink, using the glass as a barrier between them. All she could think about was how Jonah would react if her saw her with Tom.

Tom pulled back, looking disappointed, but obviously choosing to believe that she simply hadn't realised his intentions. 'So,' he said, trying to cover the slightly awkward pause. 'I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner later. I've reserved us a table at that new Chinese place in town.'

'Oh,' Cesca felt a flash of dismay. She was fast realising that coming here had been a mistake and leading Tom on like this was bordering on cruel. 'That sounds...lovely.' She knew she wasn't being particularly convincing.

Tom knew it too. 'If you don't want to...'

'No, no, I do.' There was another pause. This was fast becoming the most uncomfortable date Cesca had ever been on. She searched desperately for something to fill the silence. 'How's everything going with Josh and Nate?'

'They seem to have worked things out. Nate's Dad still isn't happy though...'

Cesca relaxed slightly. Mentioning Josh had been a good idea. Tom could easily talk about his son for hours. If she could just nod in the right places then hopefully, she'd be able to make her excuses and leave after a couple of hours without offending him too much.

Cesca suddenly realized that the silence had returned. Tom was staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

'You haven't been listening to anything I've been saying have you?'

'I have!' she protested. 'You were talking about Josh and Nate.'

'And then I realised you weren't listening, so I asked you if you wanted to invade Iceland at the weekend and you didn't react.'

'Tom, I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind today.'

He nodded, understanding on his face. 'You're seeing someone else, aren't you'

She shook her head vehemently. 'No, if I was I wouldn't have asked you to come here.' It was teh truth and she wasn't seeing Jonah, she was trying to forget Jonah.

'But you've met someone?'

This time she had to nod.

'Then why...' he gestured to their surroundings.

Cesca looked at the table, trying to avoid seeing the hurt in his eyes. 'The person I've met is...' she paused, wondering how to phrace it 'not someone I should be with...'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, he's...not my type. Or at least, he wouldn't usually be my type.'

'Cesca, if you like him, then go for it. I've dated a lot of women who I wouldn't usually think of as being my type. When I first met Rose Kelly, I never thought we'd get together, but we did.'

'And then you broke up.'

'That's not the point.'

'Isn't it?'

'No. I mean, yes, Rose and I broke up, but we had a brilliant time when we were together and I wouldn't change that for the world. I loved her and even though it didn't turn out perfectly, I'm still glad I had that time with her.'

Cesca looked up then, meeting his eyes. 'But what if the person in question was someone who you really shouldn't be with?'

'I don't quite understand.' Tom reached across the table and took her hand in a gesture which was entirely platonic. 'As long as he's not someone who's going to hurt you or use you or cheat on you then I think you should give it a try.'

Cesca smiled properly now for the first time all evening. 'Why are you being so nice about this? I've been awful to you.'

Tom laughed a little. 'Because it's pretty obvious we're not going to work as acouple.' At that, Cesca laughed too. 'And,' he continues 'if I'm not going to make you happy, then I want you to be happy with someone else. Now go, call him.'

'I think I will'

She retrieved her coat and headed outside, pulling out her phone and finding Jonah's message as she walked. The words on the screen burned brightly, etching themselves into her mind._'I want to see you, please let me see you.'_

_I want to see you too, Jonah_ she thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four: Cesca**

She hadn't called him or replied to his message, even though her whole body was aching to. Tom's words had released her from her guilt over leading him on, but they hadn't removed her fears concerning Jonah. Somehow she doubted that Tom would have been quite so understanding if he'd known the identity of the man she was talking about.

Her phone was now hidden safely in the back of her wardrobe where it couldn't tempt her and she was in the process of running herself a perfume-scented bath. She needed to relax, to lose herself in the warm, soapy water, to think through her feelings about Jonah and then attempt to move on from them. Tom obviously wasn't going to work as a distraction, but Chris Mead was cute and funny. Perhaps she should go on a couple of dates with him...

The sound of the doorbell cut through the silent house, startling her out of her reverie. She tied her pink silk dressing gown more securely around her waist and absently minded combed her hair with her fingers. She had a horrible suspicion that she knew who would be standing on the other side of the door when she opened it.

For a fleeting moment, she thought about simply not answering it, about staying hidden upstairs until whoever it was ahd given up and gone away, but something, some instinct propelled her down the stairs and caused her unsteady fingers to pull back the bolt.

Sure enough, there he was on the doorstep. Out of uniform he looked ten years older. It would be easy to forget, if she let herself, that he was still at school. His deep brown eyes found hers and Cesca felt the breath catch in her throat. She was glad he was here even though she knew that she shouldn't be.

'We can't do this...' she whispered, trying desperately to cling on to some semblance of rational thought.

'I can't stop thinking about you...' his voice was equally soft, equally ragged. Apparently he was having just as much trouble controlling himself as she was.

His hand was resting on the wooden frame of the door, only millimetres from her arm. She could feel the warmth of it, she ached with every fibre of her being to touch it. Her body tarted to tremble. She hated herself for that. How did he have this hold on her? No one had ever made her tremble just by looking at her before. There was something about him, something strong and primalistic which she didn't quite understand.

With a great deal of effort, she stepped back slightly, putting distance between her trembling body and his. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to regain some modicum of control.

'jonah, go...' She said it so softly that the words were barely audible.

'But we both know you want me to stay.'

Something inside of her was meltings. Walls she'd built up were tumbling down. When she was apart from him, it was easy to think of all the reasons why they shouldn't be together, but when she was standing in front of her, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face, it was hard to remember even a single one of those reasons.

'Cesca...' the way he said her name left her breathless. She knew with absolute certainty that if she looked him for even a moment longer then she would close the gap between, she would feel his hungry lips on hers again and, this time, she wouldn't have the strength to tell him to leave. He was leaning towards her now, inching closer and closer...

She took a deep breath and slammed the door in his face. And as she did so, she felt something shatter within the innermost core of her being. So that was what a broken heart felt like.

She slumped back against the door, gulping in great lungfuls of air, trying to slow her racing heart, trying to hold in the sobs which were building up in her throat.

She heard a thud on the other side of the door and realized that Jonah was doing exactly the same thing, that they were pressed together, back to back, with only the door separating them. Unconsciously, she pressed herself even further back into the door, placing the palms of her hands on it and spreading out the fingers, imagining that his fingers were in the same place as hers on the other side. The thought of it made her gasp. Between them the wood of the door seemed to become a warm, fluid, living thing, a conduit connecting them, soul-to-soul. She could hear the beating of a heart and didn't know if it was hers or his on the other side of the door or the sound of their two hearts beating in unison.

The sound of footsteps retreating up her gravel driveway brought her back to reality with a start. He'd gone. Immediately the door became cold, hard wood once again and her body sagged against it, feeling the loss of him as an almost physical pain. The sobs in her throat finally broke loose and she cried out with something akin to heartbreak, before slumping to the ground. She didn't move for a very long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five: Karen**

Karen Fisher sighed. Her desk was just one big pile of paperwork. She didn't even know where to start. On top of all the paperwork was the fact that Grantly had pulled out of chaperoning the Oxford trip only that morning and she was yet to find a replacement. The Oxford trip had seemed like a good idea three weeks ago. Now it was just becoming inconvenient. Five students from Waterloo Road had applied to Oxford and all had been offered interviews, so it had seemed a logical idea at the time for the school to offer to drive the students down to the university and let them stay overnight in the colleges before the interviews. Unfortunately, school regulations stated that two teachers had to accompany them. Chris and Grantly had volunteered (or been volunteered in Grantly's case), but now Grantly was claiming that he couldn't go.

Karen tried to put the Oxford problem out her mind for the time being and concentrate on the LEA report in front of her. It was the most boring kind of report. It was also a very long kind of report. She was rather relieved to hear a knock on her door just because it meant she could stop staring at the report without feeling guilty about neglecting her work.

'Come in,' she called.

A rather hesitant Cesca Montoya sidled into the room. Karen was surprised. She and Cesca did not have the best of relationships and they generally avoided each other's company as much as possible.

'Cesca,' Karen made her tone as welcoming as possible. After all, she felt it was her fault that their relationship was somewhat strained and she felt the need to overcompensate by being obviously friendly. 'What can I do for you?'

There was something strange about Cesca's manner. Her usual air of confidence seemed to have deserted her. 'It's rather embarrassing actually...' she began, her voice soft.

Karen was more than a little concerned. Cesca was rarely embarrassed or unsure about anything. 'have a seat.'

'Thanks,' the younger woman sat, but kept her eyes on the ground.

'Cesca..' prompted Karen gently.

''I was wondering...' Cesca hesitated 'I was wondering if I could swap one of my classes with the other Spanish teacher.'

Karen was surprised.' 'Which class?'

'The year 12 boys.'

That wasn't the answer Karen had been expecting. Three teachers had already come to her asking not to teach the year 11 boys since Kyle Stack and Finn Sharkey were never a good combination, but the year 12 boys were generally regarded as being a quiet, academic group who most teachers wanted to teach. 'Why the Year 12's?'

'I just...' Cesca seemed about to say something and then changed her mind at the last minute, opting instead for 'I'm finding it hard to keep them under control.'

'I find that hard to believe. They're a lovely class.'

'They don't seem to like me.' Cesca was still looking at the floor.

'Cesca,' Karen probed gently 'Is there something you're not telling me?'

Cesca hastily shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I'll find a way to deal with... the problem...'

'I don't like teachers to swap classes in the middle of the year. It harms the students' grades, but, if the...' now Karen hesitated, sensing that they were talking about something other than discipline 'problem continues then let me know and we'll work something out.'

'Thank you.' Cesca still wasn't looking particularly happy.

'Maybe you need a break from teaching for a couple of days, Cesca. You look tired.'

'no, it's ok. I'm fine.'

'How about you go with Chris on the Oxford trip? It would get you out of here for a couple of days.'

Cesca nodded. 'Maybe that would be a good idea.'

'Great. I'll tell Chris.'

Cesca smiled a hollow smile and went to leave. Depression seemed to follow her like a cloud. At the door, she paused and looked back . 'Which kids are going on the trip?'

Karen looked at the list on her desk. 'Jess, Vicki MacDonald, Siobhan Hayes, Luke Pendle and Jonah Kirby.'

Cesca didn't say anything, but Karen saw a flicker of an emotion she couldn't quite name on the other woman's face. For some reason, Karen began to feel rather uncomfortable. There was something which just didn't add up; Cesca's reluctance to teach one of the best classes in the school, her air of defeat, the expression on her face just now. For some reason, Karen suddenly thought back to a day last week, a day when she had seen Jonah Kirby greet Cesca in the corridor, seen Cesca's face light up... Karen began to suspect that she might know the cause of Cesca's current problems, but she hoped against hope that she was wrong. Cesca was a good teacher. It would be a shame if she made a mistake now which could out her whole career in jeopardy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six: Jonah**

Jonah was uncomfortably aware of Cesca sitting two rows in front of him in the minibus. He sensed that she was equally uncomfortable. She was talking to Mr. Mead, but there was a certain animation lacking in her conversation. Every so often, her head would tilt in his direction as though she wanted to look at him, but was stopping herself at the last second.

He, for his part, was staring freely at the back of her head. He was sat on his own with Jess and Vicki in front of him and Siobhan and Luke in front of them, so there was little danger of anyone noticing that his attention was not on the open Spanish textbook he held, but on the Spanish teacher in front of him.

She was beautiful even from the back. The lights in the ceiling of the minibus were reflected off her bright, ebony hair. He'd felt that hair beneath his fingers only once, but his heart leapt at the memory. It had been soft and smooth. He could have run his fingers through it forever. Today, her hair was swept back in a bun, leaving the back of her neck bare. He skin there looked warm and inviting. How he would love to run his fingertips over it...

He knew though that this was never going to happen. She'd made that perfectly clear last night at her house. He'd seen her body tremble with desire and yet she'd still slammed the door before he could kiss her. He'd rested against the door for a moment, feeling her doing the same thing on the other side. It had almost felt as though he could feel her through the door, as though the door had melted away and her warm body had pressed against his.

How could he have been so stupid? He shouldn't have gone to her house when she hadn't replied to his message. He should have taken things more slowly, not scared her away like that. He knew with absolute certainty that she felt the same way he did, but he knew also that she was scared. The consequences of a relationship were greater for her; she could lose her job, her career, everything. He had to prove to her that this relationship was worth something, that they were meant for each other and, to do that, he'd have to try to win her over again, start from the beginning and take things so slowly that they were practically going backwards.

He sighed slightly, trying to drag his eyes away from her and found that he couldn't. He'd never felt like this about anyone before. Never experienced this hunger in his very soul for someone. She only had to walk into the same room as him for him to be ridiculously happy, while an angry glance or a harsh word from her could plunge him into depression for the rest of the day.

'Jonah,' Jess' voice startled him as she turned around in her seat to look at him. She glanced at his slightly glazed expression. 'Are you alright?''

'Yeah...just nervous about the interview.'

She smiled in sympathy. 'Me too.'

The landscape outside the minibus changed. The rolling green fields had given way to wide streets with sandstone buildings made warm and comforting by the golden light of early evening. It was a world away from Rochdale.

'I think we're here.' Jess said, nervousness evident in her voice.

She turned back to Vicki and Jonah finally managed to drag his gaze away from Cesca to look at the streets outside, at the students on bicycles cycling next to the coach, at the people walking and laughing in groups on the pavements. Could this really be where his future lay? The thought of living here, studying here thrilled him, but at the same time filled him with a kind of dread. Unbidden, the image of Cesca rose in his mind. If he came here, he'd probably never see her again. He didn't know if he could live with that thought.

The minibus slowed and stopped outside a pretty sandstone building with delicate turrets and an arched entrance way.

At the front of the coach, Chris stood up and turned to face them. 'Welcome to Oxford,' he said, grinning. 'Hopefully you'll all become very familiar with this place over the next few years.'

His words were greeted with a ripple of nervous chatter.

He held up his hands for silence and continued. 'Now, as you all know, you'll each be staying in the particular college which you've applied to which means that Miss Montoya and I won't see most of you until tomorrow, but if you have any problems or worries of any kind, you must call us. We want you to be as relaxed and happy as possible before the interviews tomorrow.'

'I can't even remember what it feels like to be relaxed,' muttered Jess.

At the front, Chris was still talking. 'This is the Queen's College which I believe is Vicki's stop.'

Looking more nervous than he'd ever seen her before, Vicki stood up and walked to the front of the coach.

One by one Jess, Siobhan and Luke left too, until only Jonah and the two teachers remained. Jonah had long since stopped staring at the back of Cesca's head. Interview nerves were starting to get the better of him and now he was staring out of the window, not really seeing anything that he was looking at. The minibus turned into a side street and stopped in front of a non-descript looking wall with a black iron gate set in the middle of it.

Chris turned to face Jonah. 'This is your college.' He said.

Jonah glanced round in surprise. All of the other colleges they'd stopped at had been imposing with lawns and towers. This one looked a bit like an inexpensive boarding school.

'Wait till we get inside,' Chris said, standing.

'You're coming with me?' Jonah was surprised. The teachers hadn't gone inside with anyone else.

'yes, Miss Montoya and I are staying at this college too. I hope we won't cramp your style.'

'No...No, of course not.'

Jonah looked towards Cesca and she shot him a look which was almost apologetic. 'it was the only college with room for us,' she said by way of explanation..

Jonah didn't say anything. Part of him was ludicrously glad that she would be close to him for the next couple of days, but part of him wished that she'd been staying somewhere else. He didn't know how to act around her anymore, didn't want to scare her off again.

They walked together through the large black, iron gate and into the college. Cesca's presence was warm beside him.

'it looks a bit better on the inside doesn't it?' Chris said softly.

Jonah nodded. On the inside, it was beautiful. Admittedly, there were no towers of turrets, but there were soft, green lawns and they sloped down to the back of a river which flowed lazily through the grounds of the college. A couple of punts were tied up on the bank and bobbed gently in the water. The scene, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, was idyllic. He looked away from the river and towards the buildings. They were small, delicate, feminine almost, with an understated beauty. The lights shining out through the windows were inviting, welcoming him in. It was peaceful here. This was a place full of a quiet joy, a sense of wonder at the intricacies of the universe. Jonah smiled. This would be a wonderful place to spend three years.

Cesca gently touched his arm. The contact lasted only for a second, but it was enough to cause a blush to creep into his cheeks. 'It's lovely,' she said, smiling. He smiled back and, it was as if the quiet joy of that place had got inside both of them. For once, their smiles weren't full of lust, they were full of something more; understanding, attraction, but also something deeper.

He wasn't surprised when, an hour later, as he was unpacking in his room, his phone flashed with a message from Cesca.

'_Want to check out the college bar?'_ it read.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven: Cesca**

Cesca liked this place, She liked the anonymity of it. She was sat on a bar stool, drink in hand, just watching the crowd of students. And none of them were even giving her a second glance. They simply accepted her presence.

'What subject are you applying for?' Cesca looked round in surprise at the voice. A brown-haired girl had taken the stool next to her and was smiling at her in a friendly manner.

'Um...' Cesca almost told the girl she was a teacher, but something made her change her mind at the last second. Perhaps she was just flattered to be mistaken for an eighteen year-old. 'Spanish and French.' It wasn't exactly a lie. That was what her degree had been in.

'I'm here for Physics. My interview's tomorrow.'

'So's mine.' The lie was spoken before she even had time to think about it.

'I'm Elena by the way,' said the girl.

'Frankie,' It was an old nickname. One Cesca hadn't used since the age of 13 when she'd decided that Cesca sounded more sophisticated. Tonight though, she decided that she wanted to be someone different.

'Hey,' Jonah must have come in without her noticing. He slid on to the seat on the other side of her.

'Do you two know each other?' Elena asked.

Jonah started to speak, but Cesca interrupted him 'we go to the same school,' she said quickly.

Jonah stared, but didn't say anything for which Cesca was intensely grateful.

Elena started to speak, but her attention was distracted by a boy calling her name from the other side of the room. 'I'd better go,' she said 'It was nice to have met you, Frankie.'

Jonah waited until she was out of earshot before turning to Cesca 'Frankie?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'I didn't feel like being a teacher tonight.'

His grin was the widest she'd ever seen. 'Then let me buy you a drink. It might be inappropriate for me to buy a drink for Cesca, but I'm guessing it's ok for me to buy a drink for Frankie.'

'I guess it is.' She liked the game he was playing. The rules were different here. Boundaries were blurred. Here, in a bar, with both of them dressed in jeans, she could almost forget that he was a student. It was this knowledge, this blurring of the lines which had made her text him to ask him here.

He was back now and placed a drink in front of her. Something about him seemed different. He was still attentive to her, still obviously wanted to spend time with her, but lust which usually underpinned their every interaction was gone. She suspected that the trembling of his hands was for entirely platonic reasons.

'Are you very nervous about tomorrow?' She asked, her voice low with concern, and, when she put her hand over his, it was out of a desire to comfort him, not for any other reason.

He squeezed her hand gently. 'Yes,' he said simply.

She looked around the crowded bar and realised that everyone in there was just as nervous as Jonah. All were dreading the prospect of the interviews tomorrow and they were all making each other even more nervous.

'I think we need to get you out of here.'

He didn't protest when she pulled him to his feet and, keeping her fingers laced with his, led him outside. She liked the way his hand felt. It was warm and strong and seemed to fit perfectly inside her own. It was wonderful to be able to walk with him like this and not have to worry about what people were thinking or saying.

As they went further and further from the bar, through the dark, peaceful gardens, the trembling in his fingers subsided. He seemed to draw comfort from her presence. Now and again, he glanced at her as if he wanted to speak, but he didn't quite know what to say.

She pulled him over to a bench and sat down next to him, allowing her body to rest lightly against his. She kept hold of his hand and, on impulse, laid her head on his shoulder. After a few seconds she felt the gentle pressure of his cheek resting on her hair. She nuzzled closer to him, feeling more content than she had in a long time.

'Tell me why you're nervous,' she said after a while. 'It's not the end of the world if you don't get in.'

'I know...' he paused for a moment. 'It's just that now I've seen it and it's so beautiful, I want to come here.'

'I can understand that. I think you'd be happy here.'

'But there's something else too...' his voice trailed off. Clearly he wasn't sure if he should tell her this other thing or not.

'What is it?' She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. 'You can tell me.'

'I don't want to scare you away again.'

'Scare me away?' She didn't understand.

'Yesterday, when I came to your house, I was too forward, too intense...'

Now she understood. 'you didn't scare me away, Jonah. I scared myself with the strength of my own reaction.'

At her words, she heard his breath catch in his throat. He shifted position slightly, so that he was looking at her, his eyes shining brown pools in the darkness. 'I'm nervous,' he said softly 'because, if I do get a place here then I won't be near you anymore.'

'Oh Jonah...' She was amazed at the depth of feeling in those gentle eyes of his. She didn't know what to say. His sentiments echoed her own feelings exactly. She wanted him to get in, of course she did, but, at the same time, she hated the thought of not seeing him everyday, of not having him near her.

'Say something,' he whispered, his expression fearful now, obviously worried that he'd said too much.

'Jonah!' They both jumped, startled by the new voice which had shattered the tranquillity of the garden.

Chris was striding towards them across the dark lawn. 'Cesca?' He obviously hadn't recognized her at first as her face had been hidden in Jonah's shoulder, but now he was watching her with a concerned expression on his face. She hastily let go of Jonah's hand and, as subtly as possible, shifted position so that they were no longer touching.

'Jonah, shouldn't you be getting some sleep before the interview?'

'Yes, Mr. Mead.' Reluctantly, Jonah stood and bade them goodnight.'

'I should be getting some sleep too,' Cesca said quickly got to her feet before Chris could say anything more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight: Jonah**

Jonah lay on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was a blank white colour and not hugely inspiring. He should have been revising for the interview tomorrow or trying to get some sleep, but he'd long since given up on doing either. His thoughts were a jumble, his concentration was gone. All he could do was lie here passively and stare at nothing.

Everything reminded him of Cesca. His Spanish book lying on the floor of the room seemed to be a conduit for a thousand images, a thousand memories. She was everywhere tonight. She haunted him.

Sighing in frustration, he rolled over and hid his face in his pillow. She had been given the room next door to his and the idea that she was only a few metres away was almost too much to bear. He reached out and laid his hand on the wall which separated their two rooms, wishing that he could reach right through the wall and touch her. He lay very still, straining to hear something, anything from her room, but all was silent.

His phone beeped and he picked it up, hoping against hope that it was her, that she was asking him to come to her. He gave a small grunt of annoyance on seeing that the message was from Jess. _'Good luck for tomorrow,' _it read_. _He flung the phone at the wall, knowing as he did so that it was an irrational reaction to a perfectly friendly message.

The clock on the wall caught his eye. It was nearly midnight and he really should try and get some sleep. Slowly, lethargically, he got ready for bed and slipped beneath the covers, knowing that sleep would not come easily. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, horribly aware that Cesca slept next door. Time and again, he half got out of bed, wanting to go to her and, time and again, his nerve failed him and made him lie down once more.

Eventually he must have drifted into something approaching sleep because a noise startled him into wakefulness. He lay still for a moment, listening to the noises of the night, not knowing what had woken him. Outside, he could hear the rattle of traffic, in the distance somewhere a door banged shut, muffled voices came from the floor below. None of this should have woken him though.

Then he heard it, a muted choking from the room next door. It was the noise of someone crying and trying desperately not to make a sound. In an instant, he was out of bed and knocking on her door. He knew that he should leave her, that she wouldn't want anyone to see her cry, but at the same time, he couldn't stand the knowledge that she was upset or in pain in the next room and not try to do something about it.

At her door, he hesitated, unsure of the reaction he would find inside. Then, with fingers which shook slightly, he knocked. The sounds from within ceased immediately to be replaced with a silence of that absolute kind which only occurs when someone is trying to fade into the background and pretend they aren't there.

He knew he should take the hint and leave, just go back to his room and pretend he hadn't heard her, but he knew even as he thought it that he'd never forgive himself if he did. He had to check that she was alright.

'Cesca...' he whispered through the door. 'Are you ok?'

There was a pause, then 'I'm fine. Just go back to bed.'

'Please let me in...'

She didn't answer and, for a moment, he was worried that she was simply going to ignore him. Then the door began to inch open. She was wearing a rose pink dressing gown which seemed to have been hastily tossed on. Her face was tearstained, her hair hung in limp strands. For some reason, the thing he noticed the most was the fact that she was barefoot. Without her customary heels, she seemed small, vulnerable, young. She didn't look at all like a teacher.

She looked up at him, her eyes still filled with tears which she was trying without much success to blink back. Without a word, he reached out for her and pulled her to him. For a second, she stayed still in his embrace, not moving or responding, then something inside of her seemed to snap and she pressed her face into his chest, her body shaking as she sobbed.

He guided her into the room, closing the door behind them and sitting next to her on the bed, keeping his arms around her all the time. She was clutching at him desperately now, obviously needing to be as close to him as possible. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck, her arms were wrapped around him. All he could do was stroke her hair and offer words of comfort.

When her sobs subsided, she didn't pull away from him. Instead she nuzzled up against him, her hands gently stroking his face. 'Thank you.' She whispered.

'What for?'

'For coming in and finding me.'

'I heard you crying...' he left the thought unfinished. He wanted to ask why she had been crying, but he wasn't sure of the boundaries between them now, wasn't sure what he was permitted to ask and what would scare her away.

'I'm sorry you had to see me cry. It can't have been attractive.'

At this, Jonah laughed. 'You could never not be attractive.'

He felt her smile against his shoulder. Then she quickly raised her head and kissed him gently on the cheek. She left her head against his for a moment, stroking his cheek with her hand. 'You're very sweet.'

This time she kissed him on the forehead, before returning her head to his shoulder. He wanted to kiss her properly, to feel the searing heat of her lips on his as he had felt once before, but something made him hold back. He sensed that she wasn't ready for that.

'I suppose you want to know why I was crying...'

'Only if you want to tell me.' He kept his voice gentle, kept stroking her hair, soothing her.

'I was crying because I don't know what's happening to me.'

'What do you mean?'

She looked up at him then, her dark eyes finding his. 'I've never felt like this before. About anyone. And it's scaring me.'

He was amazed that she could be scared of anything. She was always so confident, so sure of herself. 'I'm scared too,' he said. And he meant it.

'Let's take things slowly. Let's be friends first.'

He nodded, unable to speak because of the bubble of emotion which seemed to be filling up his chest. She had just admitted that she felt something for him, that there was a possibility of a relationship between them Eventually he found his voice. 'We can take things as slowly as you like.'

He suddenly realized that being alone with her in a bedroom late at night was probably not the best way to take things slowly and, reluctantly, he disentangled himself from her. 'I should go,' he said very softly.

She didn't resist when he stood up, but just as he was about to open the door, she called him back. 'Stay with me tonight.' Her words were so soft that, for a moment, he thought he'd imagined them.

'Cesca?' he turned back to her, questions written in his eyes.

'I don't want to be on my own.' She was still seated on the edge of the bed. She had drawn her knees up to her chest and looked more vulnerable than he had ever seen her. All those defences she put up around her in the classroom were gone. The facade of confidence had vanished.

Still he hesitated, not wanting her to regret anything in the morning.

'Please...' The emotion she put into the word was too much for him to bear. He joined her on the bed again, took her in his arms again.

She pulled him down so that he was lying on his back and then. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she curled up next to him with her head on his chest. 'Just hold me,' she whispered 'I need you to hold me.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine: Jonah**

He woke slowly, drifting back to consciousness one centimetre at a time. He felt disorientated at first. The noises around him were unfamiliar. He could hear doors slamming, someone laughing. He had the sense of being in a vast building. Then he remembered, he was in a student room in Oxford, a million miles away from Rochdale.

Gradually, he became aware of a warm pressure on his chest, the sound of another person breathing very close to him. He could smell perfume. Someone's hair tickled his chin. So it hadn't been a dream.

He opened his eyes and there she was; Cesca, lying with her head nestled into his shoulder. Her beautiful face was turned towards him and was serene, peaceful in sleep. One of her arms was lying across him, her legs were tangled up with his.

Jonah froze, holding his breath. He didn't want to wake her, didn't want to do anything which might disturb her. He was terrified that she'd spring away from him as soon as she woke up. He felt like he could lie here forever just watching her sleep.

He felt her stir against his chest. She shifted position slightly, but she didn't pull away as he had feared. Instead, she nuzzled further into him, draping her body over his. 'Is it morning?' She whispered sleepily.

He laughed at her confusion. 'It is morning.' Of its own accord, one of his hands started to stroke her hair. It was soft like silk.

She groaned. 'I hate mornings.' With that she pulled the duvet further over them and seemed to be trying to go back to sleep.

He watched her, amused. For some reason, he'd assumed she would be a morning person, but her sleepiness was endearing. Besides, if she wanted to sleep he was perfectly content to hold her while she did so. It was as if they were lying in a warm, soft cocoon, isolated, in a world which consisted of just the two of them.

The cocoon was shattered by a knock on the door. Immediately, Cesca's head came up to stare at the door. The expression of fear in her eyes mirrored the cold dread which was flooding through him. Suddenly, he was very much aware that she was a teacher, that he shouldn't be anywhere near her.

'Maybe they'll go away.' Cesca whispered.

He nodded, keeping an arm around her, as they both stared fixedly at the door. There was another knock, this time accompanied by the voice of Mr. Mead. 'Cesca, are you awake? We should head down to breakfast.'

'Just...Just give me a minute...' She tried to keep her voice steady. She turned to Jonah 'You'll have to hide.'

He didn't argue. 'Where?'

They looked around them wildly. The room was horribly devoid of convenient hiding places. Inevitably, both of them ended up looking at the wardrobe.

'Cesca?' Mr. Mead's voice outside was getting a little worried now.

'Just coming.' Cesca was out of bed now and holding the wardrobe door open. 'Sorry,' she whispered as he slunk inside.

The wardrobe was far too small to stand up in, so Jonah was reduced to assuming an undignified crouching position and trying not to breathe too loudly in case he could be heard through the thin door. He heard Cesca open the door of the room, heard Chris come in and almost immediately back out again at the sight of Cesca in her dressing gown. He couldn't quite make out what Mr Mead was saying, but he felt a stab of dread as he heard his name mentioned. He tried to stand even more still than before.

When the door of the wardrobe was pulled open, he couldn't stop himself from gasping with shock. To his intense relief, it was a laughing Cesca who had opened the door. Mr. Mead appeared to have left.

'What's so funny?' he asked, surprised at her reaction.

'You're hiding in a wardrobe while your science teacher is wandering around, worried that you've run away back to Rochdale because he can't find you!'

In spite of himself, Jonah started to laugh too. The whole situation was just ridiculous.

She stepped back, allowing him to leave the wardrobe. As she did so, he was suddenly aware of how very close to her he had to pass. The air between them took on a different quality, became charged with something, began to crackle with electricity. Then her hand was on his face. She traced the line of his cheekbone with her finger. A small sigh escaped his lips as he marvelled at the proximity of her.

Then, suddenly her hand was gone and she was standing on the other side of the room to him. 'We said we'd go slowly, remember.'

He nodded, swallowing, trying to slow his racing heart. Then, with heavy footsteps, he left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten: Chris**

There was an odd atmosphere at breakfast. Cesca was abnormally quiet as she sat across from him, buttering toast and staring resolutely at her plate. Perhaps he'd embarrassed her more than he thought by walking in on her in her dressing gown.

'I'm sorry for barging in this morning.'

'Don't worry about it.' She sounded sincere enough, but still she hardly looked up.

'You seem...distracted.'

She did look up then and even offered him a fleeting and forced smile. 'I'm just not a morning person.'

Chris decided that it might be best to simply accept this explanation instead of pressing her further. They weren't particularly close and there was no reason why she should want to confide in him.

'I wonder where Jonah is?' He said in an attempt to change the subject.

He wasn't sure, but he almost thought he heard her gasp at the mention of Jonah's name. All she said was 'I'm sure he'll be down soon.'

As if on cue, Jonah chose that moment to walk into the dining room. At the sight of him, Cesca's head jerked upwards and then back down again just as quickly. This time, Chris was almost completely sure that he had heard her gasp. And she had the strangest expression on her face. It was somewhere between intense joy and intense fear. Jonah too didn't look as one would expect a nervous teenager to look on the morning of a university interview when he was forced to be having breakfast with two teachers. Instead, the smile which flicked across his face when he saw them, or more precisely, when he saw Cesca, was the kind of smile usually reserved for close friends, family members and...lovers.

Lovers. As soon as the thought had occurred to him, Chris went cold. Could they be lovers? Had Jonah not been in his room this morning because he'd spent the night with Cesca? They had been spending a lot of time together recently, but that was because she'd been giving him extra Spanish lessons, wasn't it? And they'd looked very comfortable with each other last night when he'd found them talking together on the bench. Surely, Cesca wouldn't be stupid enough to have a relationship with a pupil though. She must know that something like that could end her career.

Chris watched Cesca and Jonah carefully, looking for anything which would confirm his suspicions, hoping for anything which would deny them. What he actually saw puzzled him. Jonah and Cesca certainly weren't behaving like lovers. There was no inappropriate touching or secret smiles. In fact, they barely spoke to each other throughout the meal, seemed embarrassed to be around each other, but they weren't behaving like teacher and pupil either. There was no attempt at polite conversation between them. Jonah had an interview to study Cesca's subject at university in less than an hour, but she didn't try to offer him any words of advice, any hints at which kinds of questions might come up. It was almost as though they were too familiar with each other for those kinds of conversations. Chris tried to banish that thought as soon as it occurred. Of course they weren't familiar with each other. He was just being paranoid, seeing scandal where none existed.

After breakfast, Jonah disappeared off to his interview and Cesca retreated back into her room, claiming that she had a headache, leaving Chris to entertain himself for a while. He wandered around the town for a couple of hours, all the time, unable to shake the feeling that there was something strange going on between Cesca and Jonah.

On returning to the college, Chris paused for a second to admire the beauty of the place. It really was idyllic. The river flowed lazily through green lawns, dotted with flowers. On the water, punts were being inexpertly manoeuvred by groups of laughing students, a young couple caught in the first flush of love were seated on the grass with their backs to him.

As he watched, the girl leaned in closer to the boy, resting her head on his shoulder. The boy, encouraged, slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Chris felt his lips curving into a smile, memories of his own student days fresh in his mind. The girl was whispering in the boy's ear now and, as she moved her head away, Chris caught a glimpse of her face. He started with surprise. It was Cesca.

Immediately, the scene before him took on a different meaning. He briefly entertained a forlorn hope that Cesca had unexpectedly encountered an old boyfriend in Oxford, but he knew even as he thought it, that this was ridiculous. Now that he looked closely, he recognized her companion. His suspicions were confirmed, when the boy turned towards Cesca and Chris saw his face. The two of them were sat very close now, their faces mere centimetres from each other. Suddenly Chris realized that he really didn't want to see what was going to happen next.

'Cesca!' he called 'Jonah! How was the interview?'

The couple on the grass sprang apart as if stung and turned to look at him, trying to hide the guilt written on their faces. Chris though breathed a sigh of relief. After all, he hadn't actually seen them doing anything wrong. They'd just been sat next to each other, talking. Already, he was trying to forget the image of Jonah sliding his hand around Cesca's waist, of her leaning in against him. Chris decided not to say anything to them just yet. Hopefully it was just an unwise crush on Jonah's part, hopefully Cesca would be sensible enough to put a stop to things now before they'd really started.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven: Cesca**

Oxford had been an unreal place, a universe away from Rochdale, a place where Cesca could assume a new identity, could be mistaken for a student. A place where rules and boundaries were guidelines only. In Oxford, Cesca felt, it was possible to fall in love with anyone. More than that, it was possible to fall in love with anyone and not be judged for it. People were accepted as individuals there. Umbrella concepts and ideas intended to apply to entire groups of people simply did not exist. In that context, it was plausible, permissible even for a teacher and her student to be in love, to have a relationship. Rochdale though was very different.

As soon as they arrived back at Waterloo Road, Cesca could feel the rules of the place closing in around her. Jonah seemed to be becoming further away, more unattainable. The idea of having a relationship with him was almost ridiculous. There were so many obstacles, barriers between them; his parents, her colleagues, the school rules. And yet she couldn't get him out of her mind.

She tried her best to ignore him. She ignored his raised hand in Spanish lessons, changed direction if she saw him walking towards her in a corridor, even went so far as to hide inside her classroom to avoid having to speak to him. All her efforts though were in vain. Jonah refused to be ignored. Wherever she went, there he was, waiting for her, watching her, his soulful dark eyes locked on hers, captivating her.

He would hang back at the end of lessons, hoping to snatch a private moment with her and it would take every modicum of willpower she possessed to hurry from the room before he had a chance to speak. One day though, he simply stood in the doorway so she couldn't leave.

'Jonah...' She said softly, trying to walk around him. Her heart was beating fast, her throat felt as though it had closed up. There were a million things she should say to him, wanted to say to him and yet all she could manage was his name, nothing more.

'Cesca...' he breathed equally lost for words. Hesitantly, slowly, he placed a hand on her arm, making circular motions with his fingers, stroking her shoulder.

The contact was almost too much for Cesca to stand. His touch was like fire and ice at the same time. It was tantalizing, teasing. It hinted at the possibility of so much more. Suddenly she wanted him in a way that she had never wanted anyone before. She wanted to feel those hands caressing every part of her, she wanted to kiss his lips which, even now were drawing closer to her own.

'Cesca?' The very different voice of Adanna caused Cesca to spring backwards as though stung. The expression on Adanna's face as she came down the corridor was one of concern. 'Cesca? Is everything alright?' Adanna was looking back and forth between Cesca and Jonah, obviously trying to work out what was going on and not seeming to like what she saw.

'Jonah and I were...' Cesca's mind had gone blank. Every one of her senses, every fibre of her being was filled with Jonah and only Jonah.

'I was just apologizing to Miss Montoya for handing in my coursework late.' Jonah was doing his best to keep his voice steady, but he wasn't entirely succeeding.

'I see.' Adanna was still looking back and forth between them, still searching their faces for something. 'As long as everything's ok,' she looked to Cesca who hastily nodded.

Once Adanna had gone, Cesca somehow managed to pull herself away from Jonah and back into the safety of her classroom. 'You should go,' she said, turning her back on him.

She was intensely aware of him walking across the room towards her, of how close behind her he was standing. The knowledge that she could lean back and touch him made her shiver. She knew she should move away and yet she could not. She ached touch him.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jonah gently slid his arms around her waist. Before she could stop herself, a sigh escaped her parted lips and she sagged backwards into him, allowing her back to press against him. Still she didn't look at him. She didn't trust herself to look at him.

He brought his head down, so that his chin was resting on her shoulder. 'Come with me after school,' he whispered, so close that his breath tickled her ear. 'There's something I want to show you.'

Then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor before she had a chance to respond. As if in a dream, she wandered over to her desk and sat down on it, staring into space and breathing hard, her mind filled with the feel of his arms around her waist and the sound of his voice.

**Part Twelve: Jonah**

His hand was loosely wrapped around her wrist as he guided her through the band of densely growing trees. She was following willingly enough, but he dared not look back at her face. The emotions there scared him. Every possible expression was flickering across her beautiful features. At times, her whole face was alight with joy, but, at other times, her countenance darkened with hurt and anger and there was no way of knowing at whom these emotions were directed. He wanted to stop and talk to her, ask her what was wrong, but he didn't dare in case she ended it, in case she turned back, pulled away from him. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her wrist, not wanting to force her into anything, but not wanting to let her go either.

'Jonah, where are we going?' her voice startled him. She hadn't spoken since they'd left school.

He turned to her, smiling 'you'll see'

'We're in the middle of nowhere...' she protested, but still she followed him, drawn by a force she didn't quite understand.

They emerged from the trees onto a grassy hillside with a single oak tree in the distance, standing out against the backdrop of dazzling blue sky. The hillside was deserted, seemingly undisturbed by human habitation. It was strange to think that a place like this could be hidden away in the centre of Rochdale. Behind him, Cesca gasped, surprised by the loveliness of the place.

'Where are we?' she breathed, standing beside him now, her fingers finding his.

'Narnia,' he said with a grin. And she grinned back. It certainly felt like another world.

'Further up and further in,' she whispered to herself as he pulled her up the hill and towards the oak tree.

Once they neared it, he stood still and let her admire his handiwork, secretly relieved that everything was where he'd left it. He'd spread a blanket out underneath the tree and hung coloured lights in its branches. A picnic basket rested against the tree trunk.

For a moment, Cesca didn't say anything and Jonah's heart began to sink. Perhaps this was too much, perhaps he'd scared her away again. Then she smiled and Jonah felt as though the sun had suddenly emerged from behind a bank of clouds.

'It's beautiful,' she said.

'Not as beautiful as you.' He knew the line was hopelessly corny, but he couldn't stop himself from saying it. He turned to look at her, his eyes searching her face. Her head was tilted up, her lips were slightly parted, her eyes were filled with a hunger of a kind he'd never seen before.

Slowly, casually almost, he moved closer to her, closing the gap between them, wanting to kiss her, but not knowing if she was feeling the same way. Perhaps he had misread the signals. She was so close now that he could feel her breath tickling his face. Hesitantly, he put out a hand and touched her hair. She gasped at the contact. He felt her begin to tremble and then, as though surrendering to something, she put her hands on either side of his waist, pulling him closer to her. At the contact his self-control deserted him. He caught her mouth in a searing kiss which left them both shaking and breathless, wanting more.


	12. Chapter 13

**Part Thirteen: Cesca**

Her whole body was relaxed. Her entire being was suffused with a kind of inner calm. She knew that she had just done something very risky and very rash, and yet she had no regrets. In that moment, she honestly couldn't care less about her career or her future or her professionalism. All that mattered was that she was happy. It was a pure, clear happiness of a kind which she had rarely experienced before. Being here, being with him simply felt right. Cesca was not a believer in destiny, but that moment was almost enough to change her mind. She felt as though she was meant to be there, meat to be with him, as though all of this was inevitable.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his breathing. She honestly thought it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She shifted position slightly to bring more of her body into contact with his; her head was nestled into his shoulder. Her legs were tangled up in his and, with one hand, she was idly stroking his chest. She was cold, despite the picnic blanket which Jonah had pulled over them at some point during their lovemaking, but she had no intention of moving any time soon.

Responding to her shift in position, Jonah began to stroke her back ad her hair. His touch was gentle, soothing. The frenzy of passion which had overtaken them earlier was gone now. Or not gone exactly – Cesca knew very well that it would resurface soon – but it was sated for a time. She moved again so that her head was resting fully on his shoulder.

'You ok?' he whispered, obviously concerned by her restlessness.

She smiled up at him, wanting to reassure him.

'I'm more than ok. I'm so happy.' She said softly. It was the longest thing either of them had said in quite some time.

He grinned and kissed her full on the mouth. She felt herself respond, delighted that they had become so comfortable, so natural with each other so quickly.

When he drew back from her, a small moan escaped her lips at the loss of his touch. She needed him. She'd never felt this way about anyone before. Relationships for Cesca had always been casual, intended to brig short bursts of pleasure and little else. This though, this was something different. Already it was something much deeper.

Jonah sat up then, drawing back from her completely and, almost without thinking, she reached out to pull him back.

'What's wrong?' She asked, trying to disguise the distress in her tone, not wanting to sound desperate.

'Nothing,' he said hastily, sensing her concern, wanting to reassure her. 'I just thought you might be hungry.'

Cesca smiled with relief. She had forgotten about the picnic basket. Jonah dragged it over to her and started taking out the contents. She stared in surprise.

'Jonah, this is too much.' She said, very much aware of how much he must have spent.

He smiled 'Nothing's too much for you.'

Despite herself, she smiled back.

The picnic basket contained a veritable feast. There were pies and pastries, macaroons and meringues, chocolates and champagne ad every type of fruit imaginable. Cesca surveyed the food spread out in front of her, unsure of where to begin.

'Try a strawberry.' Jonah suggested.

He picked one up and held it out to her, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger. On an impulse, instead of taking it in her own fingers, she leaned down and took it in her teeth, allowing her tongue to gently brush the tips of his fingers. He shivered in delight.

With a trembling hand he took another strawberry. This time she did more than just let her tongue brush his fingertips. Suddenly, without warning, the passion which had so recently been spent returned, even stronger than before. Her eyes met Jonah's and she saw the same kind of desperation she was feeling reflected there.

'Suddenly I'm not so hungry anymore.' He said so quietly that the words were scarcely more than an interruption in the rhythm of his breathing.

Cesca brought her face very close to his. 'And I was just thinking that I should...' she paused '...work up more of an appetite...' She let her voice trail off.

He grinned and all further thoughts of food or conversation were forgotten for quite some time.


	13. Chapter 14

**Part Fourteen: Jonah**

The sun was setting on the horizon. The last rays of light bathed the lovers on the hill in a warm, golden glow. Jonah had lost count of the number of times their bodies had pressed together, the number of times he'd heard her cry out with pleasure. The afternoon had been like a dream state, a timeless time. They'd made love, stopped to talk or eat or sleep and then made love all over again.

Each time was better, more wonderful than the time before. He was getting to know her body now, to know what delighted her, what she desired. He loved that she was becoming familiar to him now, that their lovemaking had begun to acquire a practiced ease. Despite this, he still couldn't quite grasp the wonder of her, the wonder of the fact that she was here, with him.

They were still lying on the ground, but facing each other this time, lazily exploring each other. His hands were caressing her face, her hair. Her skin was smooth and soft like the finest silk. Every so often, they would exchange gentle, tender kisses, kisses which were filled with the promise of other such moments in the future. Her lips tasted of strawberries and champagne and something else too, something he couldn't name, something which was uniquely Cesca.

The last rays of sun faded slowly away ad stars began to appear in the sky. He felt Cesca shiver as he kissed her and, this time, it was from cold, not desire.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. 'You must be freezing.'

'It is a little chilly,' she admitted through teeth which were starting to chatter.

By an unspoken agreement, they stood and began to dress, only occasionally interrupting each other with caresses. Soon, she was bundled up in a coat ad he was back in a uniform which seemed horribly childish. Every time he put it on, he was reminded of the differences between them. Every time he worried that Cesca would start to regret her actions.

As if sensing how he was feeling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face in his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his own arms around her, drawing her close. His chin was resting on the top of her head. He was amazed at how perfectly they seemed to fit together. Despite her closeness, he was fighting a growing sense of unease.

It seemed that Cesca was feeling the same because she drew back a little so that she could see his face and then she asked with an almost fearful expression 'so what happens now?'

Jonah deliberately sidestepped the question. 'I guess we go somewhere warmer.'

'That's not what I meant.'

'I know.'

The silence between them was awkward suddenly. He drew her to him again, wrapping his arms around her slim body, holding her tight against him. He knew what he wanted to happen next, but he was worried suddenly that she wanted something different, that she viewed the relationship as casual, trivial even, that she'd had her fun ad now wanted to move on.

He felt her shoulders shaking beneath his hands and he realized that she was crying.

'Cesca, what's wrong?' The thought of her unhappy was almost too much to bear.

She stepped back from him ad looked straight into his eyes. 'I can't stand the thought of losing you. I can't stand the idea that this might just be a fling to you, a one night stand.'

His heart almost leapt for happiness. She was just as serious about this as he was. 'This isn't a fling, Cesca. This means everything to me.'

Still she didn't look happy. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. 'I mean it, Cesca. I...'he nearly said 'I love you', he wanted to say 'I love you', but realised that it was too so for that and hastily changed it to 'I love being with you and I can't stand the thought of losing you either.'

She visibly relaxed then. 'This isn't going to be easy you know.'

He nodded. 'I know.'

'No one can know about us.'

He hated the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, but he understood that it was necessary. 'I know' he said again.

'At school, I'll have to be Miss Montoya and you'll have to be just another student. I'll have to be short with you and ignore you in corridors and send you to the cooler...'

He couldn't resist flashing her a flirtatious grin. 'Only if I do something bad...'

Cesca didn't smile back. Clearly she was even more worried about this that she was admitting. He hastily re-arranged his face into an expression of utter seriousness. 'I understand all of that, Cesca, and I'm committed to this relationship. I'll do anything to make it work.'

Now, finally, she smiled. 'Good,' she said. 'So will I.'

And with that she took him by the hand and led him away from the hilltop, away from their own private universe, and towards the infinitely more complex world of Waterloo Road.


	14. Chapter 15

**Part Fifteen: Cesca**

The whole school seemed different now: brighter, louder. Each moment she spent there was tinged with possibility, alight with the prospect of seeing him. She found herself deliberately walking past his form room in the hope of seeing him through the window. She anticipated her lessons with him with a mixture of delight and dread; delight because she was able to spend time in the same room as him and dread because every time she had to be cold with him, speak to him as though he were just another pupil, she would be racked with a guilt so strong that it was almost a physical pain. Each time she had to tell him to be quiet or criticize him for handing in his homework late, she would feel like a monster, would have to fight the urge to take him in her arms and apologize.

It was harder than she'd ever imagined to treat him indifferently. Everything about him was just so appealing. And she was constantly assaulted with images of him in more intimate moments; when she saw him sitting in the back row of her classroom, all she could think of was how he'd looked when he'd lain in her bed the previous afternoon with the covers pulled up around him, hiding his strong, muscled chest.

They weren't strangers with each other at school though. Neither of them could bear that. They snatched secret, fleeting glances and touches whenever they could. Cesca would persuade Adanna to wander around the school field with her at lunchtime so that she could glimpse Jonah playing football, could clap as a supportive teacher should whenever he scored a goal. When they passed in corridors, which they did far more often than mere chance would dictate, they would exchange small smiles and allow their eyes to lock for a moment.

Occasionally, if the corridor was particularly crowded, Cesca would allow her arm to brush against his, and the gasp which escaped him when she did was enough to set her heart racing. Soon, these small touches and moments became more deliberate; Jonah would volunteer to hand out textbooks in her class just so that he could touch her hand when he took the books from her, she would stand far too close to him in the lunch queue, thrilled by how near he was. To Cesca, these moments were the most intense parts of her day; glorious technicolour splashes on a background of black and white. There were times when she felt that they were being so bold, so blatant, that it seemed ridiculous to her that no one else had picked up on their new-found closeness.

They became bolder and bolder and still no one noticed. Their hands would touch for longer now under the cover of textbooks or desks. When she helped him with his work, she would lean in dangerously close, allowing her hair to brush against his face or placing a hand on his shoulder.

Then, one day, Cesca found herself alone with him for the first time in school. It was entirely accidental; she had entered the sixth form common room to put up a poster advertising Spanish degree courses and had found him alone in the room, finishing his homework. She hesitated for a moment in teh doorway, unsure if she should simply leave before he saw her. Leaving would have been the most sensible thing to do, but nothing about this situation was at all sensible, so instead, she started to smile.

'Hey,' her voice startled him, but he seemed pleased to see her.

'Hey yourself,' her replied. Already the tone of their voices was more intimate than anything which should have been heard between a teacher and a pupil.

He stood up and came over to her, placing a hand gently on either side of her waist. 'Did you miss me?' he asked, his face very close to hers.

'Always,' she didn't pull away.

There was a pause and then he whispered, in a voice filled with emotion 'You're so beautiful. Every time I see you, you seem more beautiful than ever.'

All thoughts she'd had of drawing back, leaving the room, vanished as she brought her lips up to his.

After that, they found more and more ways to be alone together. The sixth form common room, the stationary cupboard in her classroom, even, on occasion, a dark and deserted staffroom, became their secret hideaway. They would snatch frantic kisses from each other, breathless with a heady mix of panic and desire. They would fumble together in darkness, engage in hasty lovemaking which satisfied neither of them and only drove them to seek out the next rendezvous more and more quickly. Then, in the afternoons, in the evenings, they would retreat back into the warm cocoon of Cesca's bedroom and give in to the temptation which had haunted them throughout the day.


	15. Chapter 16

**Part Sixteen: Finn**

Finn Sharkey was having a bad day. He was trying to turn over a new leaf to impress Sam Kelly. He was trying to lose his attitude, be a good kid, but it just wasn't working. The teachers all had some kind of personal vendetta against him. Mr. Clarkson had sent him out of class in first period for talking which wasn't fair because he'd been whispering, not technically talking , and then, Mrs. Fry had sent him out of class in second period for texting which, again, wasn't fair; he hadn't been sending texts, only reading them.

He'd plucked up the courage to talk to Sam after food tech, but she wasn't in a receptive mood. She'd simply hissed something along the lines of 'Why would I want to go out with a loser like you who's going to fail all his exams?' before stalking off in the opposite direction. Finn had entered his Spanish class with the intention of proving her wrong by answering all Miss Montoya's questions correctly. Unfortunately, the plan wasn't really working out; he wasn't very good at Spanish and Miss Montoya had just started collecting in their coursework...coursework which he'd never quite got around to doing.

When Miss Montoya reached his desk and held out her hand for the non-existent piece of work, Finn smiled his most charming smile and said 'I'll give it to you first thing tomorrow.' He hoped desperately that she'd just sigh in annoyance and move on. She'd been pretty distracted recently, so there was a good chance she wouldn't be too bothered about a piece of missing coursework.

The fates though, appeared to be conspiring against Finn because Miss Montoya was glaring at him with a look of steel in her dark eyes. 'What do you mean, you'll get it to me by tomorrow?' her voice was loud, every syllable was spoken clearly. Finn could see Sam turning around in her seat to look at him.

'I mean,' he said 'that I don't have it today.'

'You mean that you couldn't be bothered to do it.'

Finn knew that he could either act as though he was sorry for not doing the work or pretend that he didn't care. He wasn't sure which would be more likely to impress Sam, so he decided on the more familiar option and fixed Miss Montoya with a defiant stare. 'Yep,' he said 'I just didn't get around to it.'

'Finn, don't you care about your future? About your grades?'

Now that he'd chosen to be defiant, he knew he had to be consistent. 'Not really. Good grades are for losers.'

'No, Finn, they're not. Good grades are for people who want to do well in life, get good jobs, make a lot of money. It's people who don't get the grades who are the losers.'

'She can't say that!' Finn protested to his classmates. 'She can't call me a loser!'

Sam turned right around in her chair then. 'Yeah, Finn, she can, because it's true.'

'I don't have to listen to this.' Finn scrambled to his feet and stormed out of the classroom and then, for good measure, all the way out of the school.

He wandered around town for a while, fuming and cursing life, the universe and everything. He hated all the teachers, hated the whole school, but most of all he hated Miss Montoya for calling him a loser in front of Sam. He wanted to get back at her, wanted to make her feel just as embarrassed as he'd been. Last year, he'd thrown paint over Mr. Mead's car for similar reasons, but he somehow knew that throwing paint over Miss Montoya's car wasn't good enough. She wouldn't be too bothered about paint on her car. He'd have to think f something far better, far more personal, for her.

Deep in thought, he made his way back into school. It was the middle of sixth period and the corridors were deserted. Finn wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he began to wander in the vague general direction of the staffroom, hoping to find inspiration for his revenge on Miss Montoya. To get there, he had to pass the empty art classroom. A movement inside the darkened room caught his eye and he stopped and peered inside.

There she was, Miss Montoya, seated on the teacher's desk, idly playing with her phone. Finn hastily crouched down below the level of the window so she wouldn't see him and then ran, hunched over, past the classroom and round a nearby corner. He leaned against the wall, wondering what to do next. Something, some instinct, told him to wait for a while. Miss Montoya was obviously in the room for a reason and Finn was curious to find out what that reason was.

He stood very still for a moment, listening for sound from the corridor. Everything was silent. Then he heard footsteps. Taking a deep breath, Finn peered round the corner, half expecting to see an amorous Tom Clarkson. What he wasn't expecting to see was a nervous looking Jonah Kirby, glancing around him somewhat furtively and pushing open the door to the art room.

Finn was perplexed. Why would Jonah be meeting Miss Montoya? Were his extra Spanish classes happening in the art room now? Intrigued, Finn began to inch his was down the corridor towards the art room. Every one of his senses was alert, straining to hear anything from inside the room. He could hear muffled voices; hers soft and musical, his low and intense. He couldn't make out the words, but something about the tone of the voices puzzled him. They were quiet, intimate even, definitely not the sounds of a teacher talking to her pupil.

Finn was close enough to see into the room now. The shapes of Jonah and Miss Montoya were in silhouette against the light from the windows. He couldn't see the expressions on their faces, but he didn't need to. The positions of their bodies were telling him all he needed to know. Miss Montoya was still seated atop the teacher's desk and Jonah was stood in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gently stroking her hair. Finn smiled. So that was why Miss Montoya had seemed distracted recently.

'Finn Sharkey,' Mr. Mead's voice startled him 'Get back to class now.'

'Yes, sir,' Finn hastily moved away from the window, not wanting his science teacher to see the scene within. Finn wanted to be the one to reveal Miss Montoya's little secret to the school, but he wanted to pick the time to do it and he wanted evidence to back up his claims.


	16. Chapter 17

**Part Seventeen: Jonah**

The plastic chair was distinctly uncomfortable, but then uncomfortable chairs were just one of the many less than appealing features of assemblies at Waterloo Road. Mrs. Fisher was on stage, droning on about something, but Jonah wasn't paying her much attention. Finn Sharkey kept staring at him in a vaguely disconcerting manner, but Jonah wasn't paying much attention to Finn either. Instead his attention, as usual, was focused on Cesca.

She was stood off to one side of the hall with her arms wrapped around herself, looking thoroughly miserable. She was pale with dark circles around her eyes and her hair was hanging limp and greasy. Despite this, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He wanted more than anything to ask her what was wrong, to try and comfort her, and it was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to stand up from his chair and go to her. He kept trying to catch her eye, but only once did she look towards him and then, the smile that she flashed him was weak and watery.

A ripple of excitement coursed through the students around him. Mrs. Fisher had obviously just said something vaguely interesting. With an almost physical effort, Jonah dragged his gaze away from Cesca and focused on his headteacher. She was talking about the end of term dance which would be held later in the week.

'Now, as you know,' she was saying 'instead of having one prom at the end of the year, we've decided to have a dance at the end of each term. These are black tie events, so suits for the boys and dresses for the girls. Tickets can be purchased from Miss Bryant, the school secretary.'

Instead of excitement, Jonah felt a bubble of disappointment welling up inside him. He wanted to take Cesca to the dance, wanted to lead her inside the hall by the hand and keep her next to him all evening, but he knew it wasn't possible. He could feel Cesca's eyes on him now from across the hall, could see a sadness in her face.

As they made their way out of the assembly hall, he manoeuvred his way through the crowd so that he was walking next to her. He gently brushed her hand with his.

'What's wrong?' he whispered as softly as he could.

'Come with me,' she said equally softly and without looking at him.

As subtly as possible he followed her into her classroom, knowing that they would only have a few moments of quiet before her first class of the day began to arrive.

'Are you ok?' he asked, standing close to her, but not daring to touch her. The hallways outside were far too crowded for that. 'You didn't look too happy back there.'

She'd wrapped her arms around herself again and was looking distinctly green. 'I just don't feel great this morning, but I'm sure it's nothing.'

'Maybe you should go home.'

She shook her head. 'I'll be fine.'

She paused then, obviously planning what to say next. 'I'm sorry about the dance.'

'Sorry?'

'Sorry we can't go together. I hate it that we can't. I hate it that you can't take your girlfriend to your school dance like anyone else your age.'

He was amazed at the distress in her eyes. 'Cesca, it doesn't matter. Besides, you'll be at the dance, all the teachers will.'

'But I won't be there with you,' she almost looked as if she was going to cry.

'Just having you there is enough.'

She still didn't look convinced. 'I'd understand if you wanted to end this you know. I'd understand if you wanted to take Jess Fisher or someone to the dance instead.'

'Do you want to end this, Cesca? Is that what you're trying to say?'

She shook her head fiercely. 'No, that's the last thing I want to do, but I just want you to be happy.'

'I am happy,' he said in a voice choked with emotion. 'I've never been happier and it's all because I'm with you.'

He wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by the stream of pupils starting to trickle through the door of the classroom. As he turned to walk away, he promised himself that somehow he would find a way to dance with her at the party and he vowed to find a way to prove just how serious he was about this relationship.


	17. Chapter 18

**Part Eighteen: Cesca**

Cesca's heart was thumping wildly in her chest as she stood outside the school hall. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt quite this nervous and she wasn't even sure why she felt this way. After all, she was just going to the Waterloo Road end of term dance. It wasn't even like she had a date. Except, in a way, she knew she did.

She had tried to tell herself that she was simply attending as a teacher, as someone to keep unruly pupils in order. And yet, as she's got ready, as she'd spent literally hours picking her dress and experimenting with her hair, she'd been very aware of the fact that she was dressing up for Jonah. She picked colours to wear that he liked her in, chosen a style of dress which accentuated the lines and contours of her body.

'You look beautiful,' the voice came from behind her. Cesca turned, the smile on her lips fading when she realized that it was Tom who'd spoken, not Jonah.

'You scrub up pretty well too,' she teased in an effort to hide her disappointment. His suit was worn and he looked distinctly uncomfortable in it.

'Shall we go in?' He offered her his arm, which, after a moment's hesitation, she took it.

As they walked up the steps to the hall, Cesca began to feel increasingly uncomfortable at her proximity to Tom. His body felt wrong next to hers; he wasn't tall enough, wasn't wiry enough and, most of all, he didn't send jolts of electricity shooting through her at his touch. She looked around her, searching for the one person she wanted to see.

Almost at once, her eyes found him. He was standing on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Ronan Burley. Unlike Tom, he looked entirely comfortable in a suit and, unlike Tom, the sight of him was enough to set her heart racing even more. As if stung, she pulled her arm away from Tom's. She couldn't stand the thought of Jonah seeing her with anyone else.

Tom turned to her in surprise. 'Is everything alright?'

She nodded, unsure of how to explain her sudden stand-offishness.

Tom looked at her with understanding written all over his face then. 'You've met someone else, haven't you?'

'Yes.' There was no point in lying.

'Is it serious?' his tone wasn't annoyed or accusatory. It was simply interested.

'Yes,' she said again and meant it absolutely.

'Anyone I know?'

She almost laughed at that, but managed to stop herself, settling instead for an enigmatic smile. She was rather relived when Josh came over to them and dragged Tom away.

Cesca was free now to watch the scene around her. Jonah and Ronan had been joined by Jess Fisher and Vicki MacDonald. Cesca instantly felt a stab of jealousy as Jonah talked and laughed freely with the two girls. As she watched, Jess put a hand on Jonah's arm. It was a casual, thoughtless gesture and yet it made Cesca feel as though she'd just been punched in the face. She wanted that freedom that Jess took for granted, the freedom to laugh with him in public, be affectionate with him without anyone staring at them or judging them.

Jess was laughing now at something Jonah had just said. Suddenly, Cesca couldn't stand to watch them anymore. She turned away and made for a far corner of the room, where she stood and stared resolutely at everything and everyone except Jonah. She knew she shouldn't be having a reaction this strong to him simply talking to someone else, but she couldn't help it. She wondered fleetingly it there was something wrong with her; her emotions had been all over the place for a few weeks now and she'd been feeling distinctly strange, especially in the mornings.

She felt a hand lightly brush against her shoulder then. Even before she turned, she knew who it was. 'Let's dance,' he whispered.

Her heart leapt. She wanted to dance with him more than anything, but she knew she couldn't, shouldn't. 'We can't, not here.'

'I didn't mean here.'

He moved away through the crowd and, as if drawn by an invisible thread, she followed him. He led her outside and around the back of the hall. They could still hear the music clearly, but there was no one in sight.

'What if someone comes out?' she was glancing around her anxiously.

'No one will,' he sounded so sure of himself that she could feel her anxiety start to evaporate.

'Then let's dance,' she was smiling now.

'There's something I want to give you first.' He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small square box. At the sight of it, Cesca's heart began to beat wildly and blood began to pound in her ears. It was the kind of box usually reserved for rings. Surely, he wasn't going to propose. The thought filled her with emotions she couldn't quite name. Part of her knew that it was too soon, but part of her was thrilled at the idea, was hoping against hope that the box contained what she thought it did.

He'd seen the emotions flickering across her face and, perhaps to reassure her, said 'don't worry, it's not an engagement ring.

A wave of something akin to disappointment swept over her, but she tried to cover it with a laugh. 'I didn't think it was.' Even to herself, she didn't sound convincing.

He opened the box and handed it to her. It did indeed contain a ring, a beautiful ring of delicate silver with an amethyst stone. She looked up at him in confusion 'I thought you said...'

'It's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring.'

'A promise ring?' She felt awful for not understanding this gift that he'd obviously put a lot of thought and effort into.

'It means,' he said, taking it from the box and slipping in onto her finger 'It means that I love you and that I promise I'm serious about this relationship and that, maybe one day, I will give you an engagement ring.'

For a moment, she was too overcome with emotion to say anything. She saw fear enter his eyes, fear that he'd been too intense, he'd scared her away.

'Cesca...' he began

Quickly, she kissed him full on the mouth and then drew back 'I love it,' she whispered 'And I love you.'

Then she wrapped her arms around him and the two of them began to dance, caught up in their own private world.


	18. Chapter 19

**Part Nineteen: Finn**

Finn was sticking to Jonah like glue. Finn Sharkey may have been many things, but he most definitely was not someone who gave up easily and he was determined to find conclusive proof that Jonah and Miss Montoya were more than just teacher and pupil.

The most annoying thing about the whole situation was that he had witnessed a thousand small moments of intimacy between the two of them, but nothing which was quite enough. He could hardly got to Mr. Mead or Mrs. Fisher and complain about the fact that his Spanish teacher had smiled at one of her students in the corridor and he could hardly explain that her smile had been tender, intimate, secret almost, that he had felt guilty witnessing it because it had so obviously not been meant for him.

Despite himself, Finn was a little touched by what he saw between Jonah and Miss Montoya. Jonah's face would light up when he saw her across a crowded classroom and she had a way of fixing her gaze on him during assembly which made Finn slightly jealous. He wished that Sam would look at him in that way.

The rare moments that Jonah and Miss Montoya spent alone together were rather sweet too. Finn would watch their reflections in mirrors or through cracks in doors as teacher and pupil sat together in deserted classrooms, rarely touching, but never more than a breath away from each other. Miss Montoya would incline her head towards Jonah when she smiled, would tilt her chin towards him when she spoke in a manner which made Finn feel like it was the most intimate, private thing he had ever seen. Her actions hinted at a depth of feeling which Finn had rarely encountered before. He knew that it was technically wrong for a teacher and a pupil to be sharing these kinds of moments, but he couldn't help feeling that there was something pure, almost innocent in the relationship he was witnessing. Miss Montoya and Jonah seemed to delight in each other, to both feel a kind of wonder at the presence of the other.

And Finn was curious about just how far this pure, innocent affair had gone. At first, he had assumed that it was a fling, that Miss Montoya enjoyed snatching forbidden kisses from her pupils in stationary cupboards, that it was mostly the danger involved which was appealing to her. Now he wasn't so sure. There was something in her eyes when she looked at Jonah which hinted at something deeper, stronger, which suggested love rather than lust. And there was something in their casual familiarity with each other which suggested that their relationship might have gone a lot further than stolen kisses in stationary cupboards.

Finn was on the point of giving up his surveillance of the two of them. He was beginning to feel that exposing their affair was something which was too cruel, too petty, for even him, but then, in yet another Spanish lesson, his perspective changed.

He was watching Miss Montoya closely out of habit, hoping that she might say or do something which would link her to Jonah. Of course she didn't say or do any such thing, but she did ask for his coursework again and again he didn't have it. Miss Montoya didn't say anything, but she fixed him with a look of steal.

Later, she asked him to read a long passage from the textbook. Out loud. In Spanish. He protested, knowing that his Spanish accent was dreadful, but she was insistent and Finn suddenly understood that this was a private punishment for him not having handed in his coursework. As his cheeks burned with embarrassment and the class laughed at his mispronunciations, Finn vowed anew to end Miss Montoya's clandestine relationship with her pupil.

He decided to change tactics. Instead of following Jonah, he skived double maths and tailed Miss Montoya during her free period. It was one of the most boring hours of his life and enough to make Finn vow never to become a teacher. First, Miss Montoya had a long, dull conversation with Miss Lowall about different types of wallpaper (apparently Miss Lowall was re-decorating her living room) and then she headed to the school library and started looking through about a million websites of designer shoes. Finn learnt more than he ever wanted to know about the merits of various types of heels, but nothing at all about Miss Montoya's love life.

The next day, Finn briefly entertained the idea of stalking Miss Montoya again, but couldn't face another day of watching her lecture kids about Spanish pronouns and shop online for shoes, so, instead, he decided to take a day off from his spying and concentrate on trying to get Sam to spend time with him. Again, he had limited success. At lunchtime, he took to a remote corner of the school field to gather his thoughts and plan his next move and that was when he saw it; a flash of dark hair and silver jewellery disappearing through the school gates. For a moment, he resolved to ignore it. Knowing Miss Montoya she was probably heading out to spend her lunchtime show shopping, but there was something about the flash of silver jewellery which caught his attention. He was sure she'd been wearing gold jewellery that morning, not silver.

Intrigued, Finn slipped out of the school gates and, keeping to the shadows, began to follow her down the road. She walked quickly, nervously almost, and, as she walked, the sun glinted off a silver ring on her finger which definitely hadn't been there earlier in the day. Finn peered more closely at it. It was on her left hand. Was it...? He didn't let himself finish that thought. Surely it couldn't be an engagement ring. If she was engaged to someone else then she couldn't be seeing Jonah, unless...Suddenly everything began to fall into place...unless she was engaged to Jonah which would explain why she was hiding the ring at school.

She was walking more quickly now and Finn, interest renewed, hurried to keep up. When she rounded a corner, he paused, hiding behind a wall and then peering round the corner cautiously.

In front of him was teh scene he had waited so long to see; Miss Montoya with her arms wrapped firmly around Jonah's waist while he kissed her deeply. As quickly as he could, and with hands which were suddenly shaking, he pulled out his phone and took a photo of them. Then, without really knowing why, he turned and ran back to school as fast as was humanly possible. And he didn't really feel that glad about having caught them at last. Instead, he felt strangely guilty.


	19. Chapter 20

**Part Twenty: Cesca**

Half-awake, Cesca rolled over and stretched out a hand, feeling around the empty space on the mattress beside her. 'Jonah?' she muttered, wondering where he was, wanting to reach out to him. Then she remembered the reality of their situation, remembered that he couldn't stay the night, couldn't take that risk in case someone became suspicious of them. She suddenly wanted, more than anything, to wake up and find him sleeping next to her. Every moment they were apart seemed like an eternity.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes and then immediately wished she hadn't as a wave of the all too familiar nausea washed over her. She lay very still and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the horrible sensation. She'd felt like this every morning for a couple of weeks now. She was trying to convince herself that it was simply the flu or a stomach bug, that it would soon clear up and she would be back to normal, but every morning, like clockwork, the horrible feeling returned.

On her bedside table, her phone flashed with a message. She reached out for it, trying her best to ignore the dizziness which had now decided to accompany the nausea. Her fingers closed around the phone and she opened the message.

'_Morning, Beautiful'_ it read. The words were hardly inspired, the message was far from being a finely crafted sonnet, but the fact that it had come from Jonah was enough to make her smile. She was puzzled by the strength of her own reaction. Surely it wasn't normal for a grown woman to feel breathless with desire just because of a two word text message. On impulse, she thumbed through her contacts list and called him.

'Hey,' he sounded a little sleepy, but his voice still made her shiver.

'Hey,' already she could feel his presence soothing her, could feel the nausea receding. 'I just wanted to hear your voice...Silly really...'

'It's not silly...I'm glad you phoned. I haven't seen you for twelve whole hours and I missed you,' his tone was teasing, but not at all sarcastic.

They exchanged sweet nothings for a few minutes while Cesca dragged herself from her bed and fumbled around in her wardrobe for clothes. Once she'd finally said goodbye to Jonah, she slipped on her favourite pink dress, only to find that she couldn't do the zip up. For a moment she was puzzled. She tugged hard on the zip, wondering if it was stuck, but it still wouldn't budge. The nausea chose that moment to return with a vengeance.

Cesca's legs buckled under her and she sat down heavily on the bed, thinking thoughts she didn't want to think, suspecting things she didn't want to suspect. She'd been feeling ill in the mornings and other things had been happening too – things which independently didn't add up to much, but, when taken together, could potentially amount to something rather more serious. She'd had a lot of headaches recently and her skin looked different too; it had a definite glow about it that she'd been trying her best not to think about. And now the zip in her dress refused to close...

Instinctively, she placed a hand on her stomach, laying her palm flat against it. Did it feel different? She didn't know, but what she did know was that the skin felt strange beneath her fingers, warmer.

She hastily took her hand away and sat up straighter, taking deep breaths. She started to rationalize, to think of every possible explanation for her sudden weight gain; she hadn't done much exercise recently, she'd been too busy seeing Jonah to go to the gym as she usually did. Perhaps that was why her dress no longer fitted. She liked this explanation. By the time she'd found a slightly bigger dress and made her way to school, she'd almost convinced herself that it was true. She was steadfastly ignoring the fact that a lack of exercise wouldn't explain the nausea or the headaches.

She wandered into the staffroom, lost in thought and was so distracted that she nearly walked into Adanna.

'Cesca, are you ok?'

'What?' for a moment, Cesca was genuinely confused by her friend's question.

'You seem a bit...distracted.'

'I'm just...' she searched around for an excuse '...tired'

'Do you want some coffee? I've just made some.' As she spoke, Adanna held out a steaming cup towards her.

As the smell of it hit Cesca, a fresh wave of nausea crashed over her. She mutely shook her head at Adanna and turned away, knowing that she needed to get away from that smell.

'Cesca, what's the matter?'

'I have a lot of marking to do,' Cesca mumbled hurriedly and then rushed out into the refreshingly coffee-free air of the corridor. She breathed in deeply, gradually beginning to feel more like herself again.

'Morning, Miss Montoya,' Jonah's voice startled her. He was walking down the corridor towards her, accompanied as usual by Ronan.

'Morning, Jonah,' she replied. She tried her best to keep her voice professional, neutral, even though it was taking all her self-control not to run to him and throw her arms around him.

He flashed her a smile, which caused her heart to speed up, and then ran to catch up with Ronan. The two of them were laughing together and, as she watched, Ronan playfully shoved Jonah into the wall. Still laughing, Jonah shoved him back. Suddenly, he looked very young to her, innocent almost. Her hand found its way to her stomach again as she silently, fervently, wished that all the strange sensations she'd been experiencing recently would just go away.


	20. Chapter 21

**Part Twenty-One: Jonah**

Something was wrong with Cesca. He had no idea what it was, but she wasn't herself and it was worrying him intensely. He was fairly certain that her feelings for him hadn't changed, that she still wanted to be with him. She always seemed happy to see him, went out of her way to find times to meet him and yet, when they were together, she was distant, distracted.

He was currently sat at the back of her classroom, periodically tapping his pen on the table and steadfastly ignoring the mock exam paper in front of him. Ronan, on the other hand was scribbling away furiously. It was common knowledge that Ronan had something of a crush on Cesca and spent his Spanish lessons trying to impress her by working as hard as possible. Jonah felt a little sorry for his friend; he knew that Cesca hardly even noticed Ronan.

Cesca was seated at her desk at the front of the room with a pile of marking in front of her, but she hadn't so much as picked up a pen for the last fifteen minutes. Instead, she was resting her chin on her hand and staring into the distance. Worry was etched into her features. Jonah was trying to not to stare at her too obviously, but, at the same time, he wanted to stare at her to try and entice her to look in his direction. The angle that she was sitting at meant that he couldn't see her eyes and he desperately needed to see them to try and work out what she was thinking.

Ronan paused in his frantic scribbling and looked back and forth between Jonah and Cesca. 'There must be something in the air today,' he whispered.

Suddenly fearful, Jonah turned to his friend. Had Ronan guessed what was going on? 'What do you mean?'

'You both look as miserable as each other.'

From the front of the room, Cesca was shooting them an annoyed look. 'You need to be quiet,' she snapped. 'This is a mock exam.'

'Sorry, miss,' Ronan hastily apologized. 'Could you help me with question two?'

'Well, not really; it is meant to be an exam.' Jonah was surprised at the acid in her tone.

'Please, Miss.'

'Fine.' That was odd. Normally Cesca would have just told Ronan to get on with his work, but all the fight seemed to have gone out of her today. Instead, she seemed almost apathetic.

Cesca stood up with what seemed like a visible effort, and, as she stood, she seemed to stagger slightly. One hand went to her head while the other clutched at her desk to steady herself. Jonah froze in shock. He'd never seen her lose control like that before.

'Are you alright, Miss?' This was from Ronan. Immediately, Jonah felt ashamed that he hadn't been the one to ask.

Cesca nodded. 'I'm fine...I'm just...' Her voice trailed off and she swayed again. Then, slowly, gracefully almost, her legs buckled under her and she fell to the floor. Jonah was on his feet in an instant and rushing forwards towards her. Behind him, he heard a cacophony of voices blurring into one roar of sound. A chair scrapped across the stone floor, feet clattered as someone ran to get Mr. Clarkson from next door, but all of this seemed to be happening in another world. It was like listening to an echo of an echo. The only real thing in the world was Cesca, lying in a crumpled heap at the front of the room.

He knelt beside her, gazing in shock and disbelief at her closed eyes and motionless body. He didn't know what to do, he wanted to help her, but was terrified of hurting her. All he dared do was crouch beside her, stroking her hair and whispering her name over and over again as if it was a plea, a mantra.

Then a rough hand was pushing him backwards, away from her. Tom Clarkson was beside her now, shouting for an ambulance and shaking her, trying to wake her. Slowly, magically, her eyes fluttered open and started to rove around the room.

'Cesca, it's ok, you're ok, I'm here.' The words were from Tom, but Cesca didn't seem to be looking for him. Her eyes found Tom's face and moved on. Then, finally, they caught Jonah's gaze and stopped their frantic roving.

'I love you,' he mouthed, fairly sure that no one else could see his face.

She didn't respond. He knew she couldn't rick responding in the middle of a crowded room, but she did manage to smile a dazzlingly beautiful smile which he knew was intended only for him.

Mr. Clarkson was trying to herd the class out into the corridor. Jonah hesitated, not wanting to leave Cesca, but not knowing how to stay without drawing attention to himself. He moved back towards her, but she shook her head a little, indicating that he should leave.

He trailed out into the corridor with the others, ignoring Ronan's attempts to strike up a conversation. Instead, he gazed through the window between the corridor and her classroom, never taking his eyes from Cesca, who was still lying on the ground. She was watching him too with eyes which were full of a heartbreaking mixture of pain and fear and love. He couldn't bring himself to watch as an ambulance crew arrived and carried her away on a stretcher. He felt as if they'd carried his heart away too.

When Tom Clarkson followed them out, Jonah ran to him. 'Is she ok?' he demanded, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. 'What's happening to her?'

'I don't know, Jonah.' And, with that Mr. Clarkson disappeared off after Cesca while Jonah had no choice but to go to his next class. He knew that Cesca would never forgive him if he turned up at the hospital.

Two hours later, he was sat in double chemistry, feeling sick with worry, when he saw Mr. Clarkson's car driving through the school gates, saw a red-eyed and shakey looking Cesca get out and head inside. Without asking for permission and ignoring Mr. Mead's yells, he stood up and walked out of the classroom.

He found her in her classroom, seated behind her desk with silent tears running down her face.

'What happened? Are you ok?' He knew he sounded panicked.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her whole body was shaking and she was drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. He pulled her close to him and kissed her hair, soothing her as best he could. Eventually, when she seemed slightly calmer, he drew back a little and said 'Cesca, what's the matter? Please tell me.'

She spoke so quietly that her words were barely more than a change in the rhythm of her breathing. 'I'm pregnant.'


	21. Chapter 22

**Part Twenty-Two: Cesca**

She stepped away from him and kept her eyes on the ground. She wasn't sure how she expected him to respond, wasn't even sure how she wanted him to respond. Part of her wanted him to pull her back into his arms and tell her that he loved her, that this news was the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard, but part of her wanted him to shout, swear, run from the room in panic. In a way, that would make her life easier; then she and she alone could decide whether or not to keep the child.

The silence stretched between them. Cesca still didn't quite dare look up, but she heard him sag into a chair, heard him taking deep breaths, though she couldn't tell if it was excitement he was feeling or fear or shock or a mixture of all three. Eventually, she couldn't stand the waiting any longer.

She walked towards him, slowly, hesitantly. 'Jonah?'

Before he could reply or even look up at her, she heard the sound of the classroom door opening behind her. She jumped backwards, not wanting anyone to see her near Jonah. Tom stood in the doorway of the classroom, looking back and forth between them, confusion on his face. 'Is everything alright?' he asked.

'Yes, yes, it's fine,' Cesca said hastily. She knew she sounded abrupt, but she just wanted him to leave.

Tom though was hesitating. Jonah was still slumped in a chair, staring fixedly at the stone floor. 'Jonah, you alright mate?'

Jonah nodded a little shakily. 'Yeah...' he seemed to be searching for something to say. 'Miss Montoya just told me that I have to re-do my coursework, that's all, and I don't know how I'll find the time.'

'Re-do your coursework, why?'

But Jonah's inventiveness seemed to have come to an end. 'It...it doesn't matter,' he stammered. 'I should go make a start on it.' With that, he scrambled to his feet and made for the door.

'Jonah! Jonah, wait!' Cesca called after him, but he didn't even look back. It appeared that he'd chosen the running away in a panic option. Something inside of Cesca seemed to crumble. Even though she'd entertained the idea that he might abandon her, she'd never really believed that he would do it. He just didn't seem the type.

'Pretty strong reaction to some coursework,' Tom was muttering.

'He cares about his grades,' Cesca replied on autopilot. 'What can I do for you anyway?' She was being deliberately cold now. She knew she needed to be on her own. She was only just managing to swallow the sob which was rising in her throat.

Tom looked slightly taken aback at her tone. 'I walked past and saw you and Jonah both looking pretty upset so I wanted to check that everything was ok.'

'It's fine,' she said through gritted teeth. The sob was threatening to choke her now.

'Cesca...' Tom looked uncomfortable. 'You've been spending a lot of time with that boy recently...'

'I'm giving him private tutoring. He needs an A to get into Oxford.'

'I know. It's just that sometimes students get the wrong idea when a teacher starts spending a lot of time with them. It's happened to me before; one of Chlo's friends had a crush on me a couple of years ago and...well...it wasn't a pleasant experience for anyone. I don't want to see you in the same situation if Jonah's misunderstood your motivations for spending time with him...'

He reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder, intending to be comforting, but she flinched at his touch and pulled away. 'No one's misunderstood anything.' She said, ice dripping from each word.

'Well...good...' With that, Tom finally realized that she was in no mood for company and left.

As soon as the door had closed beside him, she kicked off her shoes and sank down into her chair, drawing her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest like a child. 'I've got to keep a hold on myself,' she whispered, fighting for control 'I've got to keep a hold on myself.' But it was no use. The sob which had been building up inside her chest finally broke free and she cried out with a soft, animalistic choking sound. Tears began to run down her cheeks. She frantically wiped them away, terrified someone would see how upset she was, but it was no use. The tears continued to fall, dripping silently onto her desk, onto the floor.

And the worst part was that she wasn't even sure why she was crying. Partly, it was because of the baby, but mostly, she realized, it was because of the way Jonah had reacted. He'd just sat there and then he'd left, as if it wasn't his problem, as if he wanted nothing to do with her. She should have expected it. After all, he was seventeen. He wasn't ready to have a child, he wasn't ready for a serious relationship even. Probably, this had all just been a fling to him.

That thought made her sob harder. She looked down at her stomach, not able to bring herself to touch it. A child should be created with love and it appeared that this one hadn't been. Perhaps it would be best if she stopped all this now, before it had really begun.

With shaking hands, she picked up her phone and began to text Jonah, to tell him that there would be no child, that he didn't need to worry.

Outside, in the corridor, Finn Sharkey leant back against the wall, unsure what to make of what he'd just seen.


	22. Chapter 23

**Part Twenty-Three: Cesca**

Jonah came to the staffroom to look for her straight after the next lesson, but she convinced Adanna to say she wasn't there. She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him. She'd made her decision and she didn't want anything or anyone to complicate it even further.

Jonah though was persistent. He was waiting outside her classroom at the start of the next period, looking distinctly out of place in the middle of the thirty twelve year-old girls queuing up for their Spanish lesson. In a former time, she might have made a joke about it, but not today, Today, she simply sighed and tried to walk past him.

'Miss, can I talk to you?'

'Not now, Jonah.'

'Yes, now. Please, Miss.'

Worried that he might make a scene in the corridor, she indicated that he should follow her into the empty art room next door. 'What is it?' she demanded, even though she already knew the answer.

'You can't kill our baby!'

'Keep your voice down!' She hissed. 'And it's not killing and it's not a baby yet. It's just a collection of cells.' She'd been trying to convince herself of this for the past two hours and had almost succeeded. 'It's not self-aware.'

'You don't know that!' His voice was desperate. 'No one knows that!'

Not wanting to debate that, fearing that she'd feel whatever was left of her heart break if she did, Cesca hastily changed angles. 'you don' want a baby! You made that perfectly clear this morning.'

'No, I didn't! I...'

But Cesca suddenly couldn't stand the conversation anymore and cut him off 'I don't want to hear it.' With that she returned to her own classroom, trying desperately to think of something, anything else.

She snapped at the year eights for no reason and set them some work. Then she tried to get on with marking, but it was no use. The words seemed to swim on the page in front of her. They didn't make any sense, she couldn't tell if the essay she was looking at was written in Spanish or English or some other language entirely. Jonah's words echoed round and round in her head _'you can't kill our baby'_, but it wasn't killing, was it? And it wasn't a baby, not yet. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door opening. At first, Cesca was puzzled. There didn't seem to be anyone there. Then, she looked down and saw a small head with a mop of curly hair peering round the door.

'Cheryl? What are you doing here?'

At the sound of her name, the little girl shyly came all the way into the room. Her face was tear-stained. Instantly, Cesca put her own worries out of her mind and went to the child, kneeling down so that their faces were on the same level. 'Where's your mum, Cheryl? Where's Janeece?'

'I don't know...I got lost...' The little girl's face seemed to scrunch up as she started to cry.

Acting entirely on some long-repressed instinct, Cesca gathered the child into her arms, rocking her gently until Cheryl's sobs started to subside. Cesca was surprised at herself. She was usually useless with children, but now, for some reason, she seemed to know what to do.

'Shall we go and find your mum?' Cesca said softly.

Cheryl nodded and held out her arms to Cesca, obviously wanting to be carried. Without hesitation, Cesca picked her up, finding the way that Cheryl leant against her, trusting her entirely, to be strangely comforting. They quickly found a rather frantic Janeece, but after, Cheryl had been taken back to the crèche, Cesca found that she was strangely haunted by the little girl. Her arms felt heavy, as though she carried a phantom child in them.

Alone in her classroom at afternoon break, Cesca's hand found its way to her stomach of its own accord. For the first time, she let herself imagine her child as a child, not just a collection of cells. She saw a little girl with shining dark hair and bright dark eyes and Jonah's easy smile and, to her intense surprise, she felt a wave of happiness wash over her. Maybe the situation wasn't ideal, but it wasn't all bad either. She knew then, with absolute certainty of a kind she had rarely felt before, that she wanted this baby.

Her phone kept flashing with urgent messages and missed calls from Jonah, but she didn't read them, just sent him a message, telling him to meet her in the sixth form common room after school.

When she walked in, he was seated on a sofa, with his arm stretched out along the back of it, looking utterly dejected. She was fairly certain that no one else would come in this late in the day. Without saying anything, she came and sat beside him on the sofa, leaning back into the crook of his arm and nestling up against him, drawing comfort from his presence beside her. At first he sat frozen and still, ignoring her. Then, almost as if he couldn't help it, he drew her in closer to him, wrapping his arms around her.

'I love you, Cesca,' he whispered, his breath ruffling her hair. 'I'll always love you, even if you do...' he seemed to be hardly able to make himself say the words 'even if you do...get rid of it. It's your decision and I'll support whatever choice you make, but I want you to know that I want this baby more than anything. This morning I was in shock, I couldn't take in what you were saying. That was why I reacted the way I did and I'm sorry for that.'

That was what she needed to hear. She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with love. 'I can't do it,' she said.

'Can't do what?'

'Get rid of it. I know it would be the sensible thing to do, but I can't. I love you too much to do that.' She paused. 'I love our baby too much to do that.'


	23. Chapter 24

**Part Twenty-Four: Jonah**

Jonah was floating on air. He felt complete somehow, as if everything in his life was starting to fall into place. He held his family in his arms; Cesca and the baby, his baby. The idea of it brought a lump of emotion to his throat. They were having a baby. They had created an entirely new human being who was half him and half Cesca and entirely itself. And Cesca loved him and loved their child. When he was younger, he's dreamed about all the things he'd do as an adult. He'd imagined his career and his house, even which car he would have. Now he realized none of those things were important at all, that he held everything that mattered, really mattered, in his arms.

'I love you,' he whispered, his lips against her hair. 'I love both of you.'

She smiled up at him. 'I love you too.'

They were still cocooned in the sixth form common room. Jonah knew it was dangerous for them to be there, but he didn't want to leave, didn't want to be parted from Cesca even for a moment. Cesca seemed to be reading his thoughts. 'We should go,' she said. 'I don't want to leave, but we should go.' She paused and then added. 'Will you come round tonight?'

'Of course.'

'Can you stay over?'

Jonah was surprised by the question. He hadn't spent the whole night with her since that time in Oxford all those months ago. 'Sure,' he said, trying his best to sound casual. 'I'll tell my parents I'm staying at Ronan's or something.'

Cesca sighed. 'I wish we didn't have to be so secretive. I wish we could just spend time together like a normal couple, move in together.'

'Me too,' they were both silent for a moment, contemplating the impossibility of their situation. Jonah gently stroked her hair, breathing in the scent of it. Despite his worries, despite the complexities of their situation, he didn't think he'd ever felt quite so content.

A sudden noise in the corridor made them both spring away from each other. Luckily, whoever was outside didn't come into the common room, but the knowledge of another's presence was enough to remind Jonah and Cesca of where they were. By an unspoken agreement, both scrambled to their feet and headed for the door. Once outside, they paused, neither wanting to leave, each holding the other's gaze and communicating on a level at which words were no longer needed.

Eventually, it was Cesca who turned away first. 'See you later,' she said softly, her eyes conveying far more than her words. Then she slowly walked off in the direction of her car.

Jonah stood still, watching her until she was out of sight. Then he headed for home to change before going round to see her. He couldn't wait to take off the hated uniform which marked him out as being so different to her.

On the way through town, he passed a shop selling baby clothes. He must have passed it hundreds of times before, but he'd never consciously noticed it. Now though, it seemed to be drawing him in. Curious, he pushed open the door and found himself in another world, a world where everything was in miniature and every colour was a shade of pastel. It also seemed to be a world which was exclusively female. There were no other men at all in the shop. He felt distinctly out of place in his school uniform, but now he was here, he wanted to buy something, felt thrilled at the prospect of buying this first thing for his child.

'Can I help you?' A shop assistant was coming towards him, eyeing him a little suspiciously. He clearly wasn't their usual kind of customer.

'Yeah, I'm looking for...' H searched around for a way to explain '...a gift.'

The sales assistant seemed to relax now that he had given a plausible reason for being there. 'Is it for a relative?'

'Yeah.' It wasn't a lie. Cesca's baby was definitely related to him.

'Were you looking for anything in particular?'

He wanted to buy the baby toys or clothes, but he didn't know which toys would be suitable and he couldn't buy clothes without knowing if it was a boy or a girl. 'Shoes.' He said, picking the first relatively gender-neutral item which came to mind.

The sales assistant led him over to a stand of tiny shoes. Seeing them made the whole thing seem so much more real somehow. He picked up a pair, astonished at the size of them. How could anyone be this small? He felt a wave of excitement wash over him. He couldn't wait to meet the baby, to hold it in his arms.

He took a long time choosing the shoes. He wanted to pick ones which Cesca would like and she took shoe shopping very seriously indeed. Eventually he chose a pair of blue and white ones, deciding that they were gender neutral, but still managed to look cute. When he left the shop, he hastily pushed them into his schoolbag, not wanting anyone to see him with them. Then, feeling perhaps happier than he had ever done before, he headed for home.


	24. Chapter 25

**Part Twenty-Five: Marcus**

Marcus was surprised to find the door unlocked when he came home from work. He was usually the first one home as Ruth had chess club after school most days and Jonah...well, who knew what Jonah was doing. Marcus had hardly seen the boy in recent weeks.

'Hello,' he called out as he made his way inside. 'Ruth? Is that you?'

'No, Dad, it's me,' Jonah's voice came from upstairs.

Marcus was a little taken aback. Jonah had been coming home later and later every day and, even when he was around, he seemed pre-occupied about something. At first Marcus had thought he was worried about exams and getting a place at university, but, as time went on, he wasn't so sure. Jonah's grades were slipping and he didn't seem particularly bothered about the fact that he needed A grades to make his offer from Oxford. He didn't seem particularly bothered about anything academic. Marcus was starting to suspect things he would rather not suspect – perhaps Jonah was experimenting with drugs, or, even worse, in some kind of trouble with the police.

He went upstairs to his son's bedroom and found Jonah riffling through the clothes in his wardrobe.

'Did you have a good day at school?'

'Yeah...' Jonah pulled a pair of black jeans out of the wardrobe, gazed at them critically and then, apparently dissatisfied, threw them onto the floor behind him.

Marcus nearly told him off for dropping his clothes on the floor and then thought better of it. After all, he was trying to connect with Jonah, not push him further away. 'What lessons did you have?' he asked, attempting to draw Jonah into a conversation.

'er...,' Jonah was momentarily distracted by comparing two very similar looking t-shirts. 'Spanish...'

'Just Spanish?' That was the only subject in which Jonah's grades weren't dropping.

'No, but nothing very interesting happened in any of them.'

'Did something interesting happen in Spanish then?'

For a moment, Marcus was sure he saw Jonah blush, but the boy quickly hid his face and mumbled 'not really...'

Marcus tried a different line of questioning. 'And how's Jess these days?'

'Jess?' Jonah seemed surprised.

'She's your girlfriend, isn't she?'

'No, Dad, not for ages.' Again there was something strange in Jonah's expression, but Marcus couldn't work out what it was.

Having finally found a top and a pair of jeans which seemed to meet with his approval, Jonah pushed past Marcus and headed in the direction of the bathroom 'I'm going to have a shower.'

'Are you going out somewhere?'

'Yeah, I'm meeting someone.'

Perhaps Jess had been replaced. That would certainly explain why Jonah had been so withdrawn lately. 'A girl?'

Jonah hesitated before nodding.

Marcus felt relieved. A new girlfriend was definitely better than drugs. 'What's her name?'

Again, Jonah hesitated. 'Francesca.'

'Pretty name. I don't remember teaching any Francescas when I was at Waterloo Road.'

'You didn't teach her. She's...new.'

Marcus wanted to question him further, but Jonah had retreated into the bathroom and shut the door. Marcus wandered back into Jonah's room. Something still didn't quite add up. When Jonah had been seeing Jess Fisher he'd talked about her constantly, brought her home, invited her round for dinner, so it seemed strange that he hadn't so much as mentioned Francesca. It wasn't like Jonah to be so secretive.

Marcus looked around the room without really knowing what he was looking for; a picture of Francesca perhaps or something belonging to her. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes fell upon Jonah's schoolbag and, following some instinct, Marcus picked it up and began to look through the contents. He pulled out a maths exercise book and flicked through the pages. Just as he'd feared, Jonah's grades appeared to be steadily falling. Now Marcus definitely wanted to meet this Francesca character to check she wasn't being a bad influence on Jonah.

At the bottom of the schoolbag was a crumpled pastel pink carrier bag. Curious, wondering if it contained some gift for Francesca, Marcus looked inside. Lying in the carrier bag were a pair of tiny blue and white baby shoes. At the sight of them, Marcus felt a wave of cold terror wash over him. Jonah had a girlfriend. Jonah had just bought baby shoes. Surely, Jonah would have had the sense to use protection. Surely, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to get a girl pregnant.

Marcus heard the shower stop and hastily stuffed the shoes back into Jonah's bag. He needed to think about this some more before he confronted his son.


	25. Chapter 26

**Part Twenty-Six: Cesca**

Cesca lay on the sofa, one hand holding a book she wasn't reading, the other lying flat on her stomach. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythms of her body, to the swish of blood through her veins, to the soft sound of her heart beating. She concentrated on every part of herself, on inhabiting herself completely. First she moved her toes, making sure she took note of each flex of her muscles, each stretch of her tendons, rejoicing in every tiny movement. Then she turned her attention to her legs, her arms and fingers, her shoulders, her neck. It was all so familiar. Each fibre of her body played a part in the well-rehearsed dance of her everyday movements. All of it belonged to her and her alone.

Once she was sure of herself, had asserted ownership of herself, she focused her thoughts inwards, seeing in her mind's eye the core of her being, the space inside her which had, for so long, been an empty cavern, a yawning void, slave to the moon, to a monthly ebb and flow. Now, that place was filled, fruitful, inhabited by another, but someone who shared her blood, who lived according to the rhythms of her heart. A little life clinging to her for survival. It didn't know who it was or where it was. All it knew was that it had to keep on clinging to her. That it mustn't let her go.

Cesca opened her mind for the first time to the enormity of this, to the fact that her life was now bound up with that of another. A person she didn't yet know, but, at the same time, felt as if she knew better than anyone. The skin of her stomach beneath her hand felt warm to the touch, seemed to be filled with a kind of energy. She lay very still, trying to sense the child within, trying to communicate with it somehow. Then, all of a sudden, she felt it; not a movement, it was still far too early for that, but an awareness of the presence of another.

'Hello, darling,' she whispered, her lips curving into a smile. Joy seemed to permeate every corner of her being. Suddenly, all the concerns and complications of her situation were gone from her mind and she was in her own private universe with her child. She stroked her hand back and forth over the place where it was. 'I love you,' she murmured and she meant it absolutely. She did love the child and the love she felt was like no other emotion she had ever experienced. It was pure and simple and innocent and right.

She heard a key turn in the lock on the front door and her smile widened.

'Cesca?' he called out, perhaps wondering why she hadn't come to greet him.

'I'm in the living room.' She didn't move. She felt too relaxed to do anything.

He grinned when he saw her lying there, one hand on her stomach, and she grinned back. 'I love you,' she said. The love she felt for him was very different from the love she felt for her child, but it was just as strong. In the past she'd been short with him, snapped at him in annoyance and she needed him to know now that she hadn't meant any of it. The only words she'd meant had been the ones of love.

He seemed a little puzzled by the intensity of her greeting, but he came over to her, and, kneeling beside the sofa, kissed her deeply. 'I love you too.'

Cesca felt then that her world was complete. Despite the age difference between them, despite the issues that society might have with their relationship, Cesca knew that this, all of it, was meant to be. She had been born for him and him for her. It was merely chance, fluke, bad luck that they had been born a decade apart. He completed her, made her feel whole.

Jonah's eyes were on her hand now, on her stomach. Hesitantly, he looked at her, silently asking her permission. When she nodded, his placed his hand next to hers. 'I still can't quite believe we're having a baby.'

She laughed. 'I couldn't until just now.'

He looked at her, questions in his eyes.

'I felt it,' she whispered.

'Felt it move?'

'No, not exactly' she wasn't sure how to explain. 'I felt that it was there. I don't know how to describe it, but it was a wonderful feeling. It felt right.'

He looked relieved. 'So you don't regret keeping it then?'

She shook her head. 'I don't care how complicated this makes everything. All I know is that I want to have this baby more than anything and I love it.'

Somewhat sheepishly, Jonah reached into his bag and pulled out a small parcel. 'I bought something...for the baby...'

Slowly, shyly, she took the package from him and opened it, a lump forming in her throat as she saw the tiny pair of shoes. For some reason, this small gesture touched her deeply. She felt tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.

Jonah misinterpreted her silence. 'I know it's not much and it's probably a silly gift when I could have bought something useful like a cot or...'

She caught his mouth in a kiss then which was so passionate that it left them both gasping for breath.

'So I take it you like them?' Jonah asked, laughing.

'They're perfect,' Cesca whispered.


	26. Chapter 27

**Part Twenty-Seven: Jonah**

Cesca's body was completely relaxed against his. Her head was heavy on his chest, her hair tickled his chin, her breathing was slow and rhythmic. She was sleeping soundly. He softly kissed the top of her head and pulled his arm more securely around her waist, drawing the two of them even closer together. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, the love he felt for her was almost too strong to bear.

He moved his hand gently up and down her back, wanting only to soothe her, not to wake her. He was desperately tired, but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't know when they would get to spend another night together and he wanted to treasure every second of it, even if all he was doing was watching her and passively holding her.

Each time he saw her lying against him like this, felt her slim body in his arms, he was filled once more with a sense of wonder, of disbelief. How could this be happening? How could she be letting him into her life in this way? Only a few short months ago, she'd been an authority figure, separated from him completely by her teacher's desk and her veneer of professionalism, but now, somehow, he was closer to her than anyone else.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her. It had been his first day at the school, his first day at any school, and he'd been overwhelmed by the noise and the confusion of it all. The other pupils in his class had blended together in one blur of colour and sound and motion and yet, somehow, Cesca had stood out from the cacophony of the rest of the day. She'd been an oasis of calm in the midst of it. Her lesson had stood out from all the others and, when he went to bed that night, the image of her seemed to have been burned onto the backs of his eyelids. And that had been it. She'd caught him, ensnared him, taken hold of his heart and refused to let go. He'd tried to distract himself with other girls, had dated Jess Fisher, but nothing had been enough. The spectre of Cesca still haunted him. He knew that a relationship between teacher and pupil would never work and yet the tantalizing possibility of it had refused to go away.

He had decided not to act on these latent feelings that he had, realized that they weren't reciprocated, that she had hardly noticed him and then Kyle Stack had brought that dog of his into school. When it had launched itself at Cesca, Jonah had felt his whole world implode. He'd acted on instinct, pulled the dog off her and then held her shaking body as she sobbed in his arms. She'd clung to him out of fear and relief, but there had been another emotion there too. She'd pressed her body against his more than was strictly necessary and she hadn't hurried to distance herself from his embrace. Her eyes had caught his for a moment and he'd seen an emotion there which had caused his heart to race.

Without really deciding to, he'd begun to flirt with her and, to his surprise, she'd flirted back. She'd suggested one-to-one Spanish classes, sent flirtatious text messages, invited him to her house. And then she'd kissed him. Or he'd kissed her. He still wasn't sure how it had happened, how they'd been drawn together like that. All he knew was that the moment his lips had touched hers, the whole world had changed. He'd kissed other girls before, but nothing had ever felt quite like this. Kissing Cesca had felt right. More than that, it had felt inevitable, as if the two of them had been born for each other, made for each other. He'd known then with absolute certainty that he would never feel for another woman so strongly.

But even then, he'd never dared to dream that she would give herself to him so completely, would love him so absolutely. He'd thought that she would deny the kiss afterwards, ignore him completely, even move schools and he still couldn't quite believe that she hadn't, that even now, she was curled up on his chest sleeping soundly, that she carried their child. Just the thought of the baby brought a lump of emotion to Jonah's throat. He swallowed hard and wrapped his other arm around her, so that she was encircled completely in his embrace.

He felt her stir slightly. Apparently she wasn't as deeply asleep as he'd thought. 'What's wrong?' she asked sleepily, shifting position a little so that she could see him more clearly.

'Nothing,' he whispered.

She didn't look too convinced. 'You're not having second thoughts, are you? About us, I mean.'

'No, no...' seeking to reassure her, he kissed her full on the mouth, feeling her suddenly tense body relax as he did so. 'I was just thinking about how much I love you, about how I can't quite believe that all this is happening...'

'Me neither...' She giggled a little nervously. 'It feels right though. It feels more right than anything ever has.'

Jonah smiled down at her. 'Yeah, he does.' He agreed, leaning down to kiss her again.


	27. Chapter 28

**Part Twenty-Eight: Finn**

Finn sat on the floor of the corridor with his back pressed against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. Propped up on his knees was a pile of Spanish coursework. For once, he was waiting to see a teacher, not because he was in trouble, but because he wanted help with his work. Sam was being nicer to him and doing well in his Spanish coursework might finally convince her that he wasn't a loser with no plans for the future. Unfortunately though, he'd sat outside Miss Montoya's classroom for nearly an hour now and she was nowhere to be seen. And he'd gone to the trouble of skiving double maths to wait for her. Now that he thought about it skiving double maths probably hadn't been the best way to impress Sam...

Finn sighed. Where was she? He'd checked the staffroom and she wasn't there. He'd even checked that Jonah Kirby was in his science lesson on the off-chance that the two of them were skipping school together. Finn kicked the wall opposite him in a bored sort of way, almost ready to give up waiting. She'd probably gone shoe shopping. He honestly couldn't understand what Jonah saw in Miss Montoya; she was definitely attractive, but weeks of trailing her around the school had taught him that all she ever did was shop online and have boring conversations about boring things with other boring teachers.

'Shouldn't you be in class, Finn?' He looked up to see Mrs. Fisher walking towards him.

'Miss Montoya wanted to see me.' It was only a half lie.

'I doubt that. She's not in school this afternoon.'

'Where is she?' Finn hadn't been meaning to ask, but the question just slipped out. After all the time he'd spent following Miss Montoya around the school, he couldn't help being interested in her personal life.

'That's not really any of your business. She just...' Mrs. Fisher seemed to be searching around for the words to use. 'She just...had some matters to attend to. And you really should be in maths.'

Finn got to his feet and wandered down the corridor in the direction of the maths classroom. Something about Mrs. Fisher's words was puzzling him. She'd been deliberately vague about Miss Montoya's whereabouts, deliberately hiding something. This was more than enough to make Finn more than a little interested in what his Spanish teacher was doing. Had Mrs. Fisher found out about her and Jonah? No, that couldn't be it. If anyone else found out about the two of them it would be all over the school within minutes.

Finn heard footsteps coming down the corridor and looked up to find Jonah hurrying past him in the opposite direction. The lesson still hadn't finished, so Jonah had obviously found an excuse to leave his science lesson early. That was odd. Jonah wasn't the type to skip class. Abandoning whatever vague plan he'd had of returning to his maths lesson, Finn waited until the older boy had turned the corner at the end of the corridor and then began to follow him.

Jonah was walking quickly, glancing about him furtively, obviously worried about being followed. Finn though was good at following. He'd had a lot of practice in recent weeks. He kept his distance from Jonah, lingering in the darkest parts of the corridors or inside empty classrooms. Unsurprisingly, Jonah was headed in the direction of the Spanish classroom. Miss Montoya had returned from her mysterious errand and was seated behind her desk.

For a moment, Finn was at a loss as to how to watch the scene unfolding in the classroom, without being seen himself. He paused just around the corner from the classroom, leaning back against the wall to consider the situation. Then a movement to his left caught his eye. He swung round, hoping that Mrs. Fisher or someone hadn't caught him skipping class yet again. Instead, he was confronted with a glass door and a perfect reflection of everything happening inside the Spanish classroom.

Miss Montoya was standing now, a smile stretching across her face. Jonah was smiling too, he reached out and placed a hand on either side of her waist, pulling her in closer to him. Her arms went around his neck and she was talking quickly, telling him something. Finn couldn't tell what she was saying, but, whatever it was, it was clearly good news because Jonah was laughing now and then he kissed her swiftly on the lips. Finn drew in his breath sharply. Even though he knew that Jonah and Miss Montoya were seeing each other, he still found the sight of them together a little strange. It embarrassed him for some reason. He felt as though he shouldn't be watching and yet he couldn't stop.

Miss Montoya had pulled away from Jonah now and was glancing around her, obviously checking that no one had seen the two of them. She was still smiling, her head close to Jonah's, her eyes fixed on his in a way which somehow seemed more intimate than the kiss of a moment ago. Then, she did something odd. She placed one hand flat on her stomach, the smile on her face widening. Finn looked away, digesting what he'd just seen. Surely she couldn't be...

'Finn?' Jess Fisher's voice interrupted his train of thought.

He hastily slammed the door in front of him closed, not wanting Jess to see the reflection of Miss Montoya's classroom. She was staring at him. 'Finn, why are you just standing in the corridor?'

'I was waiting to see Miss Montoya,' it was a plausible explanation and it was almost true.

Jess seemed to accept this. 'Is she back then?'

'Back from where?'

'The doctor's.'

The image of Miss Montoya with a hand on her stomach rose in his mind. 'Why was she at the doctor's?'

Jess hesitated. 'I don't know if I should say. I only know because Miss Montoya told my mum...'

'Go on, Jess, I won't tell anyone.'

Jess leaned in closer to him. She was never any good at keeping secrets. 'Miss Montoya's pregnant,' she whispered 'she had to go for a scan this morning and she won't tell anyone who the father is.'

Finn felt his breath catch in his throat and the implications of Jess' words sank in. Miss Montoya was having Jonah Kirby's baby. If he told on them now, he would certainly pay Miss Montoya back for humiliating him in front of Sam, but suddenly he wasn't so sure that he wanted to tell. This was getting serious. For perhaps the first time ever, Finn felt completely out of his depth.


	28. Chapter 29

**Part Twenty-Nine: Cesca**

Cesca was grinning as she walked back into school after visiting the doctor. She knew that she shouldn't be feeling this way, knew that she should be weighed down by the complexities of her situation, the impossibility of everything, and yet she felt almost exactly the opposite. She was still aware of the obstacles she faced at some subconscious level, but all she felt at the forefront of her mind was a fierce kind of joy.

'You're looking rather pleased with yourself,' Adanna was standing in the doorway of her classroom, surveying Cesca with folded arms and a somewhat puzzled expression. The urge to tell Adanna everything was overwhelming. So far she'd only told Karen about the pregnancy.

Adanna was coming towards her now. 'What's going on with you, Cesca? You've been moody for weeks and now you're strolling in here looking like you've just won the lottery.'

Cesca's grin widened. She couldn't tell Adanna about Jonah, but she could at least tell her about the baby. She leaned forward and whispered in her friend's ear. 'I'm pregnant. I just went for a scan.'

She heard Adanna gasp and then felt the other woman's fingers close around her arm, pulling her half inside the classroom. The thirty year ten girls in Adanna's class were talking amongst themselves and not paying any attention to the two teachers. Even so, Adanna kept her voice to a whisper. 'Who's the father?' she hissed.

Cesca tried to skip over the question. 'Just someone I met a while ago. We haven't been seeing each other very long. She giggled a little nervously. 'It's all a bit unexpected.'

Adanna's eyes were searching Cesca's face, filled with concern. 'Cesca, are you sure you want to go through with this? Don't let your boyfriend pressure you into doing anything you're not ready for.'

Cesca shook her head, not sure how to make Adanna understand the tumult of emotions coursing through her. 'I've never been more sure about anything.' She took Adanna's hands in her own and looked her straight in the eyes. 'I just saw my baby, Adanna...'

Adanna still didn't look convinced. 'What about the guy? Are you sure about him?'

Cesca didn't hesitate. 'I love him.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Because I've never felt anything this strongly before...'

Some of the girls in the class were shooting glances in their direction now, picking up on the intensity of the conversation between the two teachers.

'I have to go.' Before Adanna could say anything else, Cesca turned in the direction of her own classroom.

As she walked, one hand found its way to her stomach and she thought again of the baby, her baby, of the ultrasound image she'd just seen. It was beautiful.

Once inside her classroom, she seated herself on her desk, eyes fixed on the door. Jonah came in almost immediately, just as she'd known he would. She wished he could have been there with her earlier, could have seen their child.

'What happened, Ces? Is everything ok?' His voice was full of concern.

She smiled widely, placing her hands on his shoulders to reassure him and drawing strength from his warm, strong presence as she did so. 'Everything's fine. I'm ok, the baby's ok.'

He visibly relaxed. 'All morning I've just been imagining all the things which could have gone wrong...'

Cesca interrupted him. 'I saw the baby.' She could hear the emotion creeping into voice.

She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a copy of the ultrasound image. He took it from her with shaking fingers and seemed to be rendered speechless as he looked at it. She was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.

Embarrassed, he wiped them away with the back of his hand. 'Sorry, it's just...'

She covered his hand with her own. 'I know,' she whispered and then added, looking at the picture. 'She's beautiful, isn't she?'

'She?'

Cesca nodded, feeling tears begin to prick at the corners of her own eyes. 'Yeah...it's a girl. We're having a little girl.'

Now the tears were running freely down his face. On an impulse, she kissed him quickly and then, remembering where she was, she pulled back. He reached out for her, but she hastily moved away. 'We have to be careful.'

He stepped away from her then, but kept his eyes fixed on her face, communicating on a level which was deeper and more intense than words would allow.

'Are you pleased?' Cesca whispered. 'That it' a girl?'

He swallowed hard. 'I wanted a girl, but I didn't want to say so in case it wasn't...' He started to smile through his tears 'We'll have think of names...'

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside followed by giggling plucked Cesca from the private universe she had been inhabiting with Jonah and deposited her unceremoniously back into the real world. 'We'll have to think of what we're going to tell everyone.' She gestured to her stomach which was already a little bigger than usual, to her jeans which were already starting to feel a little tight. 'I'm not going to be able to hide this for much longer.'

Jonah sighed. 'If only I was a year older, if only I could leave school...'

'Jonah, we've talked about this. I won't let you leave school for me.'

He knew there was no point in pursuing that particular argument. 'And I won't let you leave your job for me.'

'A can just not tell anyone who the father is...' she said it quietly, knowing that he wasn't going to like it.

To her surprise, he didn't protest. 'I wish we didn't have to keep on sneaking around like this, but if it's the only way...'

'It is. And, by the time the baby's born, you'll have practically left school and then we can move to wherever you end up going to uni and we can be together properly without having to hide.' She knew that the plan was far from being perfect, but it was the best one she could come up with.

'Alright...We'll do that.' He still didn't sound completely happy about it. 'But I want to be there for you through this, Cesca. I might not be able to move in with you yet, but I want to help you through this. I want to look after you, both of you.'

She felt a lump forming in her throat at his words and she stepped towards him, aching to feel his arms go around her, to sink into his embrace. 'I love you,' she whispered, not quite daring to close the gap between them.

'I love you too.' He didn't try to touch her again, but he held her gaze with his own and, somehow, that was enough.


	29. Chapter 30

**Part Thirty: Jonah**

Jonah had started to think that he should become a spy when he left school. He clearly had a talent for living a double life. By day, he was a sixth former, preoccupied with exams and deadlines and coursework, by night, he was an adult with a partner and all the responsibilities which went with that. Cesca never made allowances for the fact that he was only seventeen. She expected of him everything that she would expect of a partner her own age and he liked being treated like that. He didn't want her to look after him, or shield him from things. He wanted an equal partnership with her.

And, more and more, that was what they had. They understood each, anticipated each other's needs and desires, helped each other comforted each other, were there for each other. She let him look after her, understood that it was important to him to do that, knew that he needed to feel that none of the boundaries of the classroom had followed them home. Whenever she made a decision she consulted him, respected his opinion, valued his advice.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to treat her as a teacher at school. Sometimes he would answer back in lessons without really realizing what he was doing or the awkward position he was putting her in. She could hardly send him to the cooler and, equally, she couldn't treat him any differently from Ronan or Vicki or the others in his class. Eventually, he took to simply keeping silent in Spanish lessons. It was easier that way.

Ignoring her at school was painful. Whenever he blanked her in a corridor, he felt guilty for the rest of the day, whenever she blanked him, he felt a stabbing pain in the vicinity of his stomach. And yet he could do nothing except blank her because any sign of recognition between them was sure to give away their familiarity with each other. They had long since stopped clandestinely meeting in deserted classrooms and corridors. Before the baby, before feelings had become involved, such secret meetings had seemed fun, had been intoxicating almost, but now there was simply too much at stake.

Instead, they spent all their time together outside of school. Cesca's house became their private world. They would spend afternoons and long, lazy evenings cocooned in her bed or lying side-by-side on her sofa. And they would talk for hours. Jonah had never talked in this way with anyone before. At first, he had been attracted to Cesca for the way she looked, for the way she spoke and acted, but now he loved her for her mind. He was beginning to understand the way she thought, beginning to be able to anticipate her reactions and, at the same time, he was still surprised by her. She was a woman of deep emotions. She was capable of kindness of a degree which he had never encountered before. She didn't fall in love easily, but, when she did, she fell in love absolutely and completely. Jonah knew that she had given herself to him entirely. And he gave himself in return.

Their minds and souls were intertwined now. Life without the other was unthinkable. And they each began to change to further compliment the other. Jonah could feel himself gaining some of Cesca's inner calm, almost forgetting how it felt to be angry. He felt content with the world, entirely fulfilled.

Time passed. The earth turned and the seasons changed. Dreary February was replaced by a fierce, windy March and then an April made up of thunderstorms and rainclouds. At school, pupils took to sheltering inside at breaktimes and spending the days bundled up in coats and hats. They dreamed of sunshine and warm weather and felt as though spring would never come.

Jonah was the only one who didn't notice the rain or the wind. His world seemed always to be filled with sunlight. His relationship with Cesca grew stronger and better and each day brought him closer to the time when he could leave school and they could finally behave as a normal couple. The baby was starting to make its presence felt now. Everyone knew that Cesca was pregnant and the corridors were ablaze with rumours about the father of her child. Most of the students seemed to believe Tom was responsible. As the rumours got wilder, stories started to circulate that Tom and Cesca were secretly married, that they had eloped and not told anyone. At first Jonah hated these rumours. He feared that Cesca still had latent feelings for Tom, but, as it became clear that she had no such feelings, Jonah began to find the whole thing faintly amusing. He felt a thrill whenever he thought of the baby and he delighted in the fact that he and Cesca had a secret of such magnitude which was all their own.

April gave way to an unseasonably cold May and, still dressed in winter coats, students began, reluctantly, to revise. Stress levels rose, teachers became snappy and Cesca's baby was forgotten as talk of exams and university places replaced gossip. These were conversations which Jonah could join in with. Cesca was determined that he should go to university and they were trying to choose between his five offers. He'd always liked the idea of Manchester because it was close to home, but now, that seemed to be a reason to turn the offer down. Both he and Cesca needed to be somewhere they wouldn't be recognized. Leeds and Sheffield might still be too close. Edinburgh was appealing, but Ronan and Vicki were hoping to go there. Again, in the past, that would have been a reason to chose it, but not anymore. He and Cesca needed to completely leave their old lives behind. His fifth offer was from Oxford. It was further from home than he wanted to be and he feared he wouldn't fit in there, but at least no one would recognize him. And Cesca was keen on the idea. Increasingly, her approval was the thing which mattered the most to him.

He put off replying to the university offers and May became June and still the sun refused to shine. Exams began, but Jonah was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. All his thoughts were of Cesca now. She was finding the last part of her pregnancy difficult and he just wanted to be with her all the time, wanting to constantly be checking that she was ok. She tried to hide her discomfort from him, but he had become too perceptive to her moods to be fooled for long. He would go home with her every night, make her dinner, massage her aching back and tell her that he loved her. He worried that perhaps she regretted her decision to keep the baby, despite her assurances to the contrary.

As June ended and July began, the sun finally started to break through the clouds, bathing the world in a warm, soothing glow and, with it, Cesca became brighter, happier. She was still tired, but she seemed more comfortable now, filled with energy. Jonah relaxed again, began to study properly again. He was filled with a kind of bubbling excitement all the time now. July was the month in which his world would change; he would turn eighteen, .eave school, and, more importantly, his baby would be born and he would finally be free to be with Cesca.


	30. Chapter 31

**Part Thirty-One: Jonah**

'Happy birthday, son!' Marcus threw open the door of Jonah's bedroom, grinning.

Jonah groaned, pulling the covers further over his head.

'I guess becoming an adult hasn't turned you into a morning person then.' Marcus laughed before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Half-awake and disorientated, Jonah rolled over, automatically expecting to see Cesca's head on the pillow beside him. He felt a sharp stab of loneliness as he remembered that she was miles away in her own bed. He'd wanted more than anything to spend the night before his eighteenth birthday with her, but both of them had realized that it just wasn't possible. Jonah's family expected him to be with them.

On his bedside table, Jonah's phone started to flash with a message. He glanced at it and, as he has hoped, it was from Cesca. '_Happy birthday, Sweet'_ was all it said, but it was enough. It meant that she was thinking about him, implied that she too wished they were together. It was strange how much he missed her. Whenever they were apart, he felt hollow almost, not quite himself. It was as if the universe had been painted in black and white and only Cesca could cause it to blossom into glorious technicolour.

Downstairs, Jonah found a new bike in the kitchen with a birthday ribbon wrapped around the handlebars. Marcus stood next to it and beside him was Ruth. Jonah thanked them both for the bike, mustering as much enthusiasm as possible, but he couldn't help thinking that anyone looking in on the scene through the window would assume that the bike was for Ruth, not him. It was a strangely childish gift, the kind of thing which would have delighted him when he was ten or even twelve, but now it felt a little pointless. His old bike might not be as shiney as this one, but it worked perfectly well. The new bike no longer excited him as it once might have done. Instead it served to illustrate how his family thought of him, how they saw him as a child still, not as an adult and certainly not as someone ready to have a child of his own. Not for the first time, he began to worry about how they would react to the baby when he eventually told them about her, and he worried even more about how they would react to Cesca. Marcus had said time and again that he was more than happy for Jonah to have girlfriends, but, by girlfriends, Jonah knew he meant teenagers who would be impressed by a shiney new bike, not a young woman with a car and a house of her own.

It was with a heavy heart that Jonah set out for school. He loved his family dearly, but, at the same time, Marcus and Ruth no longer seemed to fit into his world. When they looked at him, they saw him as he had been years ago, as a carefree child, content to spend his days playing with his little sister and studying under the guidance of his father. They would never understand him as he was now. He didn't feel like he could be himself with them anymore. It was as if he was playing a role, reading from a script. With Cesca though, it was different. She was the first person he had ever truly been himself with, had shown all the different facets of himself to. And in many ways, he had only discovered those facets about himself because of her. She had shown him who he was.

His mood wasn't improved when he arrived at the school gates to see Cesca being helped out of her car by Mrs Fry. The older woman was carrying Cesca's books and was talking to her in a soft, earnest voice, inquiring about her health, about the health of the child. Jonah kicked the wall at the entrance to the school in frustration. It should be him helping Cesca and carrying her things. He should be the one looking after her, but he had been reduced yet again to the role of a mere child, an observer.

'What's up, mate?' Ronan had clearly seen him kicking the wall.

'Nothing,' Jonah tried to keep his voice neutral.

'Well, happy birthday.'

'Thanks.' It was little more than a grunt.

'Aren't we a ray of sunshine today. You coming out with Vicki and Jess and me tonight?'

'Yeah,' This was something else Cesca wanted him to do. She was determined that he should have a normal eighteenth birthday with his friends despite the fact that all he wanted to do was see her.

'Cool,' Ronan clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way. 'Maybe you'll meet a girl you like.'

'Maybe.' Forcing a laugh, Jonah followed his friend inside.

Their first lesson was Spanish and Jonah almost wished it wasn't. Seeing Cesca and pretending not to see her was torture, especially now that she was so obviously pregnant. Sometimes, in class, she would rub the huge mound of her stomach or place a hand on the small of her back and Jonah would know that she was in pain, but would be able to do nothing to comfort her or help her. Several times now, he'd considered skipping Spanish, but he knew she'd worry about him if he wasn't there.

As usual, she didn't acknowledge him when he came into the room and she blanked him as she addressed the class, allowing her beautiful eyes to wander from face to face, not singling anyone out in particular.

'Miss,' Ronan's hand was in the air.

'Yes, Ronan,' Cesca's hand had moved to her back and an expression of discomfort momentarily crossed her face. Jonah knew that expression well. It meant that the baby was kicking. Only two days ago, she'd worn that same expression as they lay curled up around each other in her bed, as she'd taken his hand and placed it on her stomach, letting him feel the movements of his daughter...

'Miss,' Ronan's voice brought him back to the present. 'It's Jonah's birthday today.'

'Well, happy birthday, Jonah,' she said with a smile which was cold, professional, indifferent. That smile seemed to cut into him. 'As it's your birthday,' she continued, still in her teacher's voice, 'you can come to the front and show us how to conjugate these verbs on the whiteboard.'

Jonah was surprised. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they would ignore each other completely in class. Any contact was dangerous, could give away some of the familiarity between them.

A little unsteadily, he rose to his feet and went to the front of the classroom. Once he reached her, Cesca reached over to her desk for a whiteboard pen, turning her face from the rest of the class as she did so. She smiled at him then and, this time, it was a proper smile, a smile just for him, an easy smile, filled with love. 'Happy birthday,' she said again, her voice very low and soft, her words falling like silk onto his skin. He grinned back at her and for the shortest of moments, the two of them were in their own private world again.

Then she turned back towards the class and handed him the whiteboard pen. The brief touch of her fingers was like fire and ice together. It was all he could do not to gasp. Suddenly he realized that she had given him more than just the pen. A small piece of paper was wrapped around it. As he turned his back on the class to write on the board, Jonah unrolled the piece of paper and read the hastily scribbled message in Cesca's handwriting; _'Come over tonight after you've been out with Ronan and Vicki .I don't mind how late it is.I want you to spend time with them, but I want to see you too. I want to wish you happy birthday properly...'_


	31. Chapter 32

**Part Thirty-Two: Cesca**

The baby was moving all the time now. Cesca lay on the sofa, running one hand across her stomach hoping to soothe the child. Her efforts were futile. The baby was clearly feeling energetic. 'I think you're going to be some kind of gymnast' Cesca murmured to it.

She shifted position a little, trying to get comfortable, but, again, all her efforts were in vain. Comfort was something which eluded her completely these days. Not that she regretted her decision to keep the baby because she didn't. On the contrary, she found it hard to believe that she had ever even considered getting rid of it. She didn't just think of the baby as an image on an ultrasound scan anymore, she thought of it as her daughter, as a child with a personality and a mind all her own. And whenever Cesca thought of her daughter she was filled with wave after wave of a pure, innocent love of a kind she'd never experienced before. Despite all that Cesca couldn't wait until the baby was born. Partly this was because being this pregnant simply wasn't pleasant, but mostly it was because she wanted to finally meet her daughter, wanted to finally hold the child in her arms.

Cesca closed her eyes. She was tired all the time these days. The baby often kept her awake through the night. She had asked Jonah to come round later and she knew she should stay awake, but she couldn't help closing her eyes just for a moment...

'Hello, sleepy,' Jonah's voice jerked Cesca back to consciousness.

'Sorry...' she tried to sit up, but the weight of her stomach pushed her back onto the sofa.

'It's ok, you don't need to get up.' Jonah came and sat on the back of the sofa. As he leaned down to kiss her she caught the scent of stale alcohol and sweat which is the hallmark of clubs everywhere.

'So how was your first experience of legal clubbing?' she said, her tone teasing.

'How did you know I'd been clubbing?'

'Just an educated guess.' On an impulse, she reached up so that her arms were around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. This one was longer, deeper. When they finally broke apart, he kept his face close to hers.

'I missed you,' he whispered. 'I mean it was fun and all with Ronan and Vicki and Jess, but it would have been better if you'd been there.'

She laughed and gestured at her rounded stomach. 'I don't think they'd let me into a club with this. And even if they did, I'm not sure Ronan and the others would want to party with Miss Montoya.'

Jonah's face became serious suddenly. 'I can't wait until we can tell everyone that we're together. I want to take you out. I want to be able to walk around town holding your hand.'

'I know, love...I want that too.' She took his hand, caressing his fingers gently with her own. She brought them to her lips and kissed them gently, feeling him relax as she did so. His other arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and she leaned her head against his chest.

'How are you today?' His voice was soft.

'Good, actually. I'm still tired, but I'm feeling very...' she paused, unsure how to describe the feeling of calm which had flowed through her when he entered the room. '...very zen.'

'Zen?'

'Yeah...calm, content...'

He smiled and caught her mouth in another kiss. She could feel herself giving in to his caresses, losing herself in him. She pulled away quickly before she forgot everything else entirely. 'I got you a birthday present,' she whispered.

'You didn't have to...'

'I wanted to.' With some difficulty, she hauled herself to her feet and over to the dining room table. She picked up a carrier bad which was resting on top of it and handed it to him. He pulled out three neatly wrapped packages.

'Which should I open first?'

She thought for a second and then pointed at the largest of the three. He ripped open the wrapped, revealing a soft black leather jacket. 'I thought I should replace that fake one you always wear...' she was smiling as she said it.

He smiled back 'Are you embarrassed to be seen with me when I wear it then?' His tone was teasing.

'Open that one next.' She indicated the next largest one.

He obligingly did so and revealed a beautiful hardback copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's _'One Hundred Years of Solitude'_. In the original Spanish. 'Thanks. It's beautiful, but I'm not sure my Spanish is up to it...'

'It will be after a few months at uni. It's my favourite book.'

He smiled properly then 'In that case I'll make sure my Spanish is good enough to read it.'

He picked up the smallest gift. It was light and square. 'Can I open this one now?'

She nodded, feeling her heart rate quicken a little with anxiety. She wasn't entirely sure what he would make of this last gift.

He had taken off the wrapping paper and was opening the box within. Inside it were two rings, one small and delicate with a single amythest stone, the other larger and broader, but still beautiful. The design of the two rings was very similar. It was obvious that the two were a matched pair. Jonah looked at her , questions written all over his face. 'Are those...?'

'They're engagement rings...I know that it's meant to be you who asks me, but I thought since it you've just turned 18 and we can legally get married now without getting permission from your parents...' Her voice trailed off. She was disconcerted by his silence. Then she looked at him and saw a broad grin stretching slowly across his face.

'You really want to get married?' he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

'Yeah,' she replied quietly 'I really do. If you do.'

'Of course I do. I didn't dare ask you though in case you said no.'

Cesca laughed in relief and closed the gap between them. Taking his hand, she slid the larger ring onto his finger and he took the smaller one and slid it onto hers. For a moment, they simply stared at their joined hands and matching rings, each of them feeling a kind of wonder. Then Cesca leaned forwards and kissed him deeply, only breaking off to whisper 'I think it's time I said 'happy birthday' properly' before leading him upstairs.


	32. Chapter 33

**Part Thirty-Three: Jonah**

Jonah awoke slowly; gradually slipping back to consciousness. He was lying on his side, curled up around Cesca's back, one arm was looped under her shoulder and the other was draped across her stomach. His face was pressed in her hair which smelt of flowers and perfume. He lay very still for a moment, just enjoying being so close to her, savouring having her near. Such moments were rare ad precious things. Other couples might take this kind of closeness for granted, but Jonah knew that he and Cesca could never tae anything for granted. At any moment someone could find out about them and then… Almost unconsciously, Jonah held her closer. The thought of be apart from her as unbearable, the though of her going to prison was million times worse.

She stirred a little in his arms and, still asleep, took one of his hands in her own, as if she sensed his unease and was seeking to reassure him. Beneath their joined hands, Jonah felt the baby moving within her and the sensation made him smile. He still couldn't quite believe that all of this was happening.

The harsh sound of an alarm clock cut through the stillness of the morning. Cesca groaned and turned her face into the pillow.

'Morning, Love…' he said, softly, kissing her hair.

She groaned again in response and then mumbled something which sounded like 'I don't want to go to school…'

'I think it should be me saying that. He kissed her hair again and then began trailing butterfly kisses down her neck, across her shoulders. At first she didn't respond, but then she began to giggle and squirm. He kissed her with more energy, making her laugh even more. He loved to hear her laugh. She trued in his arms then and kissed him properly.

A long time later, they were jerked away from their caresses by the ringing of the alarm clock. For a moment, Jonah was confused 'You set two alarms?'

Cesca shrugged. 'I had a feeling we might get distracted.'

She pulled back the covers and started to stand up, only to fall back into a sitting position wit one hand on her stomach and an expression of discomfort on her face. Instantly, Jonah was out of bed and standing in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. 'What is it, Ces? Is it the baby?'

She swallowed hard and nodded, apparently unable to speak.

Jonah felt a kind of cold panic grip him. 'Is it coming?'

This time she shook her head and, taking a deep breath, found her voice again. 'I don't think so. It's just one of those false contractions the hospital warned me about.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah…It's gone now…'

'Should we call a doctor anyway?' He wasn't convinced by her reassurances.

'No, honestly, it's fine.' She sounded calmer now, more herself.

'Maybe you should stay home today. I could stay with you.'

'No, I need to go in. It's my last week and I've got a load of stuff to sort out and you need to go on that trip to London.'

'I don't care about some stupid trip to a stupid museum.' He knew he sounded childish even as he said it, but the issue of the school trip had caused some contention between them; he hadn't wanted to go because he was worried about something happening to Cesca or the baby while he was out of Rochdale, but she had insisted that he should go.

She was still insistent now. 'The museum isn't stupid if it's going to help you do well in your classical civilisation A-level.'

For some reason her tone of voice made him laugh. 'You really sounded like a teacher then.'

'Well I am a teacher.'

'I know, but it's the first time you've brought Miss Montoya home with you.'

She looked a little embarrassed by this. 'Sorry, I shouldn't lecture you, but I just really want you to do well.'

His gaze softened and he took her hands in his. 'I know,' he said 'And I want to do well too, so I can get a good job and look after you and our baby. I just hate to leave you. What if the baby does come and I'm not here?'

She squeezed his fingers gently. 'She won't. She's not due for another three weeks.'

'Babies sometimes come early…'

'This one won't.'

'How do you know?'

'Female intuition.'

He smiled. 'Ok,' he relented, seeing that she wasn't going to give in. 'Ok, I'll go, but I want to see you this evening when I get back.'

'And you can. I'll tell you every single boring detail of my day.' Her tone was light and teasing now which made Jonah feel a little better.

'And call me if you get anymore of those false contraction things.'

'Would you like me to text you every time she kicks?' He knew she was teasing him, but he was still a little tempted to take her up on the offer. 'We'd better get ready or you'll be late for the trip.'

Forty-five minutes later, Jonah was walking in through the school gates, horribly late, with the taste of Cesca's kisses still on his lips and her reassurances that she was fine still ringing in his ears. He saw Ronan rushing towards him.

'Mate, where were you? The coach is about to leave. I've been trying to call you…'

'Have you? I didn't hear my phone ring.'

Jonah began searching through his bag and his coat pockets for his phone as they hurried towards the coach. It was only as the coach was pulling out of the school gates that Jonah realised he'd forgotten to pick it up; it was still lying on Cesca's bedside table.


	33. Chapter 34

**Part Thirty-Four: Finn**

Finn was not having a good day. The fates seemed to be conspiring against him. Everything he did, every plan that he made just seemed to be going horribly wrong. He'd auditioned for the school play a few weeks ago purely because Sam had been given the lead role and he'd been delighted t learn that he would be playing her love interest, only, instead of drawing the two of them closer together, it had seemed to push them further apart. Sam was taking the play very seriously and Finn, in all honesty, just wasn't, meaning that she was getting increasingly frustrated with him.

And then there was Kyle Stack. He had a small role and was also Finn's understudy, but he knew the part better than Finn did. And he somehow had the knack of making Sam laugh. In rehearsals, Sam and Kyle seemed to be spending more and more time together, while Finn was getting a reputation for being the cast loner.

When Finn had woken up that morning, the prospect of rehearsals in the afternoon had seemed to hover over him like a dark cloud. The dark was made considerably darker by the fact that his dad had managed to find his carefully hidden school report and was reading it over breakfast. The following conversation had not been pleasant. Finn's dad had gone through the report subject by subject, ending with the particularly terrible Spanish report which he summed up with the words 'This Miss Montoya woman really doesn't like you, does she?'

Finn was fuming by the time he reached school. Miss Montoya's comments had turned his bad report into a terrible report and, indirectly, had got him grounded for a month which completely messed up his chances of going on a date with Sam anytime soon.

He had Spanish first period and the first thing he did on walking into the classroom was fix Miss Montoya with a steely glare. She returned it. And then handed him back his latest essay with a big, shiny, red 'F' scrawled in the top right-hand corner. Then she yelled at him for talking. And then, later, she sent him to the cooler for refusing to stop talking. All in all it wasn't a great lesson.

As he sat at a desk in the cooler and scowled at his trainers, thoughts of getting revenge on Miss Montoya crept into Finn's head for the first time in a long time. He still had that photo of her and Jonah on his phone and it would be so easy to show it to Mrs. Fisher…He knew deep down though that such an action wouldn't be fair; she and Jonah were serious about each, they were expecting a baby together.

A movement in the corridor outside caught Finn's eye and he looked up to see Sam walking past, looking straight at him, disappointment in her eyes. Next to her was Kyle, who grinned triumphantly at Finn and mouthed the word 'loser'. Finn's cheeks burned wit shame and it was all Miss Montoya's fault. Without really being aware of what he was doing, Finn pulled his phone out of his bag and found the incriminating photo.

'Finn, put that away.' Mr. Mead, who was on duty in the cooler, was glaring at him.

For a moment, Finn was tempted t show him the photo, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he put the phone back into his bag and wet back to moodily staring at the desk in front of him.

To hi dismay, the teacher in charge of play rehearsals that afternoon was Miss Montoya and she didn't look like she was in a good mood. She seemed irritable, snappy, and, every so often, her hand would find its way to her impossibly large stomach and her beautiful features would be marred by an expression of discomfort.

Sam and Kyle rehearsed their scene first. They were word perfect, their performances flawless, but they didn't g even so much as a nod of approval from Miss Montoya who seemed to be entirely pre-occupied with problems of her own and appeared to be only half-aware that the rehearsal was going on at ll.

Next, it was Finn's turn to do a scene with Sam. He knew that he hadn't learned his lines well enough, but he managed to blag his way through the first half of the scene by just replying to what Sam was saying. In the second half of the scene, though, the structure of the dialogue changed. Now Sam had to reply to him. Suddenly, Finn felt very lost. His mouth had gone dry and his mind was completely blank. He couldn't remember a single word of his lines. The silence in the hall was deafening, mocking him.

'Finn, that's your cue.' Miss Montoya's tone was impatient.

Hesitantly, he began to say the only line h could remember '_I used to call you 'Blue Roses'. How was it that I started calling you that?'_

Sam sighed in exasperation. 'That's not for another three pages.'

Finn thought frantically. He could picture the text he was supposed to have learnt, could see the shape of the words on the page, could almost read them…

'Come on, Finn we're waiting.' This was from Miss Montoya again.

The words were coming into focus now, but still he couldn't quite make them out.

'_I can see that you're an old-fashioned type of girl.' _That was it! That was the line! But it had been spoken slowly and spitefully by a grinning Kyle.

'Right, that's it.' Miss Montoya's hand was on her stomach again. 'We're re-casting. Kyle, you take Finn's role and Finn, you take Kyle's.'

Kyle was smiling broadly and Finn felt a cold fury rising within him. Kyle's part was tiny and there was no way that Kyle could play Sam's love interest. 'Miss, that's not fair…' he began.

'It's perfectly fair,' Miss Montoya replied in a tone of steel. 'Kyle knows the part better than you do.'

'But, Miss…'

'I'm not listening to another word, Finn.'

The fury inside Finn had built up to the point where it could no longer be contained. He kicked out viciously, overturning a chair.

'Get out.' Miss Montoya's voice was angry, cold. 'Get out of my rehearsal.'

Finn didn't need telling again. Anger, white hot and burning, was coursing through every fibre of his being. He pulled out his phone, found the photo he was looking for, and headed in the direction of Mrs. Fisher's office.


	34. Chapter 35

**Part Thirty-Five: Karen**

Karen Fisher stared out of the window, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular. She had a lot on her mind these days. First and foremost of course were Bex, Jess and the whole Hodge situation. Both the girls seemed fine now, but it was hard to tell if they were really fine or if they were just putting on a brave face.

Something else was bothering her too. Something which had been niggling at the back of her mind for a while now, something about Cesca. There were things about her pregnancy which just didn't quite add up. For one thing, the fact that she was so secretive about the father of her child was a little bizarre. Karen understood that Cesca might want to keep some of the details of her personal life private, but she hadn't even mentioned a first name to anyone.

Karen was pulled out of her reverie by a knock on the door of her office. 'Come in,' she called.

The door opened and Karen was surprised to see a rather sheepish looking Finn Sharkey standing outside. Finn was one of the more frequent visitors to her office, but he's never come voluntarily before. 'What can I do for you, Finn?'

The boy came into the room fully and pulled the door closed behind him. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

'Finn?' Now Karen was worried. Finn looked genuinely upset, almost as if he was ashamed at having come to see her.

He took another deep breath. 'It's about my GCSE options, Miss. I really want to drop Spanish and take French instead.' He said it all in a rush and Karen couldn't help but wonder if he'd just made it up on the spot because, for whatever reason, he'd decided at the last second not to tell her the thing he'd originally wanted to talk about and which had been worrying him as he'd walked in.

Karen wasn't sure if se was just being paranoid though, so she simply said 'That's fine, Finn. Just tell Ms. Bryant and she'll change your timetable for you.'

There was a pause which quickly became awkward.

'Was there anything else you wanted to tell me, Finn?'

'No, Miss, nothing else.' He said hastily and then turned and practically ran towards the door.

In his haste to leave, he half-tripped over a book which was lying on the office floor and, as he stumbled, various books and folders came tumbling out of his bag. Finn started to pick them up and Karen cam around the desk to help him. She handed him a couple of books and then picked up his phone which had landed by the sofa.

As soon as she touched it, Finn froze, an emotion which she wasn't sure how to interpret, on his face. It was closer to shame than anything else. Remembering the incident the previous term with Wayne, Bex and a certain internet video, Karen looked more closely at the phone in her hand. Seeing the picture on the screen, she too froze.

It was of two people, lovers, standing on a street corner near the school. The man wore a fake leather jacket with the collar of what looked like a school shirt protruding over the top of it. His face was half-hidden because he was in the act of kissing the woman, one hand in her ebony hair, the other on the small of her back and she was clad in an all-too-familiar pink Karen Millen dress… Karen stared at the photo, refusing to believe what she was seeing. Perhaps the shirt wasn't actually a school shirt and there must be other women in Rochdale who owned that dress.

She glanced up at Finn and one look at his face told her all she needed to know, yet she still had to ask. 'Is that…?'

Finn nodded. 'yeah.'

She needed to hear him say it. 'Tell me who's in the photo, Finn.'

Finn's voice was so quiet she could hardly hear him. 'It's Jonah, Miss, Jonah Kirby and…' he hesitated 'Miss Montoya.'

Karen stood up and moved to her desk, unable to drag her eyes from the photo. 'Is that why you came here today? To show me this?'

'Yeah…only once I got here I couldn't do it.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know, Miss. It didn't seem fair somehow.'

'Fair?' Her tone was like ice.

'It didn't seem fair on them.'

'Finn, Miss Montoya has been abusing a pupil…'

'No,' he interrupted 'No, she hasn't been abusing him. It's not like that.'

'I'll be the judge of that, Finn. All I need to know from you is how far this has gone.'

Finn hesitated. 'Well, she's pregnant, Miss…'

'You mean the baby's Jonah'S?' Karen could keep the shock out of her voice. She'd assumed the kiss Finn had photographed had been a one-off thing.

'Yes, Miss.'

Without another word, Karen brushed past Finn and into the outer office where she found Adanna photocopying some worksheets. 'I need to speak to Cesca,' she snapped at the other woman. 'Now.'


	35. Chapter 36

**Part Thirty-Six: Cesca**

Cesca couldn't concentrate. No matter where she went, what she did, who she talked to, she couldn't seem to drag her thoughts away from the baby. The child was twisting and turning within her, refusing to be still. And every so often, the movements would be accompanied by a wave of pain which seemed to begin in the core of her being and then radiate outwards until her whole body was wracked with it. More than once, the pain had left her gasping and unable to speak. If false contractions were this bad, then Cesca didn't even want to think about what the real ones would feel like.

Tom found her groaning in the staffroom at lunchtime and tried to talk her into going home, but Cesca could, at times, be incredibly stubborn and she refused to leave. Instead, she found a quiet corner and attempted to distract herself with marking. She read the same essay four times without realising before she gave up.

Despite the waves of pain which were spilling over her more and more frequently now, she felt filled with a strange kind of energy. It was almost as if something was compelling her to move around. She stalked around the school field for a while, not knowing if she wanted to be alone or around people. She found herself pacing up and down the school's perimeter fence feeling strangely caged in. Some part of her was yearning for wide open spaces, for the sun-baked Spanish mountains of her childhood, while another part of her wanted to be somewhere quiet, dark, sheltered.

All of a sudden, a memory surfaced in her mind. When she was a child, her family had owned a dog, a pretty little Samoyed, with a sleek white coat and bright eyes, which Cesca, at the age of four, had imaginatively named Sammy, despite the fact that the dog was female. A few years later, Sammy had become pregnant, a fact which scared and fascinated little Cesca in equal measure. Just before the puppies were born, Sammy had taken to pacing round and round the garden and sleeping in the small, dark space at the back of Cesca's wardrobe. Cesca's mother had explained the dog's strange behaviour by saying that it was Sammy's way of instinctively preparing for the birth of the puppies.

Cesca paused in her pacing, a hand resting on her stomach, all too aware that her current actions were mirroring Sammy's almost exactly. She pulled her phone out of her bag automatically, wanting to call Jonah, to seek some reassurance from him, but, as she found his name in her contacts list, she remembered with a horrible sinking feeling that he'd left his phone behind that morning. With an extreme effort, Cesca banished the memory of her dog from her mind, hoping to persuade the child through sheer force of will to stay exactly where she was for just one more day. Jonah had to be there to see their daughter make her entrance into the world. He needed to be there for himself and he needed to be there because Cesca wasn't sure she could do it without him

The bell rang then, reminding her of the play rehearsal she was meant to be supervising. Cesca felt almost relieved. She was grateful for anything which might distract her.

Once in the hall though, Cesca was barely aware of anything which was going on around her. The pains were sharper now, deeper. At times, she felt as though her whole body was on fire, at other times, it was as if she was being dipped in ice or as if someone had fastened a band of hot metal around her waist and was gradually drawing it tighter and tighter.

Somewhere, on the very edge of consciousness, she was aware of shouting at Finn Sharkey, of him storming out with an expression of pure fury on his face, but she couldn't remember afterwards what he'd done or what she'd said to him.

'Cesca?' Adanna's voice cut through the haze surrounding Cesca's mind. How had Adanna got there? She hadn't been there a few minutes ago.

'Ces, are you ok?' Her friend's voice was filled with concern.

'I'm fine,' Cesca lied, trying to keep her voice steady.

'Karen wants to see you about something. She...' Adanna broke off, staring at Cesca openly now.

Another pain had hit and it was worse than all the other ones. Unable to stop herself, Cesca doubled over, a groan escaping her lips. Vaguely, she heard the splash of liquid on the wooden floor of the hall, followed by a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream from Sam Kelly and a sharp intake of breath from Adanna. Then someone was phoning for an ambulance and Adanna's hands were on her arms, her back, supporting her as she sank to the floor.

Adanna was speaking to her now, but Cesca had to concentrate hard to make out what her friend was saying. 'Shall I call your boyfriend?'

Even through the haze of pain, Cesca knew that that definitely wouldn't be a good idea. She shook her head. 'He left his phone at home this morning.' It wasn't a lie. He had.

'Shall I call him at work?'

'He's not in his office today...' She gritted her teeth as another pain hit.

'There must be some way to contact him...'

Cesca didn't reply. She needed Jonah here with her, needed him with every fibre of her being. He would be back from the trip soon. Even now the coach would be speeding down the motorway towards her, but even when he arrived in Rochdale, no one would tell him where she was. There was no reason why they should. Tears were pouring down her cheeks now, tears which had nothing to do with physical pain. She had never felt quite so scared or quite so alone


	36. Chapter 37

_Author's note: Hey guys (I couldn't work out how to reply directly to reviews, so I just thought I'd reply here instead!) Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and reviews and thank you to the people who've been talking about this on Karen David's facebook page! I randomly went on to there yesterday and got a bit ridiculously excited when I saw people talking about this! It really cheered me up after a very, very, very long day of thesis writing! Anyway, here's the next part (and please forgive the fact that I have no clue how long it takes to drive from Manchester to London!):_

**Part Thirty-Seven: Jonah**

Jonah knew something was wrong. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease which had followed him around all day. He'd stood in the museum with Ronan and the rest while the history teacher droned on about Ancient Greece, but his mind was far away, focused very much on the present. It was as if he could sense Cesca on some level, feel her presence on the edge of his consciousness, and he could sense somehow that she was hurt or in pain, that she needed him. And he couldn't get to her.

As the day went on, he withdrew further and further into himself, speaking less and less to the others. His eyes, his mind were desperately searching for a way to escape, to get back to school, but he couldn't see any way to do it. Instead, he was trapped inside the museum and then, later, inside the coach on the way back to Rochdale.

Every mile which the coach travelled brought him closer to Cesca and yet it didn't bring him close enough. He needed to be with her, hold her. Every fibre of his being was crying out for her. He had to know if she was alright.

'What's up with you, mate?' Ronan's voice startled him.

'Nothing,' was his grunted response.

'You been dumped or something?'

'No.' Jonah knew that his tone was unreasonably angry, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to talk to anyone other than Cesca.

'Sorry I asked.' Ronan turned away from him and started talking to the people sitting behind them instead.

Jonah rested his head against the glass of the coach window and stared, unseeing, at the countryside flashing past. All he could think of was Cesca. The shapes of the trees rushing past seemed to re-arrange themselves into the image of her face, the noise of the coach wheels on the road seemed to be saying her name, _'Cesca, Cesca, Cesca'_ in time with the rhythm of his racing heartbeat. Why had he forgotten his phone? Why had he let her persuade him to come on this stupid trip? He shouldn't have listened to her, should have known that she needed him, but was too selfless to say.

When the coach finally pulled into school, Jonah was the first to get off. He stared around him as his feet hit the tarmac, every sense alert, every muscle poised. She was nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly surprising. It wasn't as if she often hung around in the car park.

'Jonah,' it was Ronan's voice again. 'We have to get to maths. We still have to go to last period, remember.'

'Yeah...in a minute...' Without even looking at his friend, Jonah took off at a run in the direction of the staffroom.

'No running in the corridors, boy!' Mr. Budgen's voice echoed down the corridor behind him, but Jonah ignored it.

He couldn't think clearly now, his thought weren't in the form of words anymore. Instead he was consumed by a single quest, a single burning desire to find Cesca and check that she was ok. The memory of her doubled over in pain that morning kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind.

His pounding feet hit the floor faster and faster, the echoes reverberating up and down the deserted hallway. Ashe ran, he glanced to the left and to the right of him, into empty classrooms, into rooms filled with students and teachers, a whole myriad of different scenes being played out before his eyes, an ocean of spaces and places and all of them united by the simple fact that they were devoid of Cesca. He wanted to call out for her, but even now, he didn't quite dare. Instead, all he could do was run. Why was the staffroom so far away? He could never remember it being this far away in the past.

Eventually, shaking and breathless, he arrived at the door and knocked with an unsteady hand.

'Jonah, what can I do for you?' Mr. Clarkson seemed distracted as he opened the door.

'Miss Montoya...' Jonah stammered, unable to think of the right question to ask.

'She's not here.' Mr. Clarkson was searching his face, puzzled by his agitated manner.

'Where is she?' He was still out of breath and the question sounded more confrontational than he'd meant it to.

'That's not really any of your business, Jonah.'

Sighing in frustration, Jonah turned away and headed in the direction of Cesca's classroom. He kept to a walk while Mr Clarkson was watching, but, as soon as he'd turned a corner, he broke, once again, into a desperate run. He wasn't surprised when found the classroom empty. He went inside, scanning every inch of the room, looking for some clue as to her whereabouts, but there was nothing. A book lay open on her desk, a half-finished pile of marking was stacked in a corner, her coat was flung over the back of a chair. She'd obviously left in a hurry, but left to go where?

'Looking for someone?' Mrs. Fisher's voice from the doorway of the classroom made him jump.

'Yeah...' he searched around for an excuse. 'I needed to see Ces...Miss Montoya about my coursework...'

'Well, she isn't here.'

'Do you know where she is?' He tried to keep his voice polite this time.

'That's not your concern, Jonah.'

'Please Miss, I need to find her. It's important.'

'Would you come to my office with me? I have an important matter of my own which I need to discuss with you.'


	37. Chapter 38

**Part Thirty-Eight: Finn**

Finn plodded along the corridor, head down, hands thrust deep into his pockets. He'd imagined many times how it would feel to tell Mrs. Fisher about Miss Montoya's relationship with Jonah Kirby, about how he would savour getting his revenge on her, how he'd make her regret giving him all those detentions. He'd thought he would leave Mrs. Fisher's office feeling triumphant, on top of the world, victorious. Instead, he felt awful.

Even as he'd stormed out of the play rehearsal, he'd begun to have second thoughts and those thoughts became stronger with every step he took in the direction of Mrs. Fisher's office. And when he'd stood in front of her, looked into her face, he'd realized that he couldn't tell her. His vendetta against Miss Montoya was stupid, childish. The fact that she'd given him detention and made him look stupid in front of Sam was, in no way, a justification for ruining her career and perhaps even getting her sent to prison. When Mrs. Fisher had seen his phone, Finn had felt as if the bottom of the universe had just dropped out from under him.

He'd left Mrs. Fisher's office only to see an ambulance parked outside the school and Miss Montoya being helped into it by Miss Lowall. A few minutes eavesdropping on the conversations around him told Finn that Miss Montoya was having the baby. That just made Finn feel worse.

Finn was usually confident, sure of himself, almost too sure of himself sometimes, but now he felt as if all that confidence had just drained away. There was a horrible cold feeling somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. It was an ache almost, a crushing guilt which was gnawing at every part of him. It seemed that everyone walking past was staring at him, as if they knew him for what he was; a snitch, a tell-tale, a gossip. He felt like a monster. He almost wanted someone to give detention or suspend him or something. He deserved to be punished, would have welcomed it. He had just betrayed a secret which had the potential to wreck not just one life, but three; Miss Montoya's, Jonah's and the baby's.

At the thought of the baby he stopped in the middle of the corridor and stood still. What if Miss Montoya went to prison? Would Jonah get custody of it? And if he didn't, what then? It would be taken into care, grow up with strangers.

'What have I done?' Finn whispered, not caring if anyone heard him talking to himself.

'I don't know,' Sam's voice came from behind him 'what have you done?'

HE whipped around so that he could see her and stared at her, uncomprehending.

'Look, Finn, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry Miss Montoya took your part away in the rehearsal. It wasn't fair of her to do that.'

'It was fair.' Finn couldn't bear to say anything else which was at all negative about Miss Montoya.

'Finn...' Sam started to speak again, but Finn didn't want to listen.

'I just need to be on my own for a bit, Sam.' And with that, Finn stalked off down the corridor, not even registering the fact that Sam had been nice to him for quite possibly the first time ever.

He rounded a corner and was confronted with the sight of Mrs. Fisher leading a distressed looking Jonah away from Miss Montoya's classroom. One glance at their face told Finn all he needed to know; Jonah clearly didn't know where Miss Montoya was or that she was having the baby and, judging by Mrs. Fisher's expression, she was just about to confront him about the whole thing.

All at once, Finn new that he had to do something, knew that he had to help Jonah reach Miss Montoya. It would in no way atone for the harm he had caused already, but at least it would be something.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Finn slammed his elbow into the glass cover of a nearby fire alarm, hearing Mrs. Fisher cry out in surprise as he did so. Her cry was drowned out by the sound of the glass smashing and then the wail of the alarm. Immediately, Finn realized his mistake; he' d surprised Mrs. Fisher, but he hadn't done anything which would force her away from Jonah.

Re-thinking his plan, Finn broke into a run, but he ran towards Mrs. Fisher, not away from her. As he reached her, he grabbed her handbag from her shoulder and took off down the corridor. Jonah was stood some way behind her and, as Finn reached the older boy, he paused for just long enough to hiss 'She's in hospital, she's having the baby. Mrs. Fisher knows everything.' Then he was off again, feet pounding on the stone floor, Mrs. Fisher's bag swinging from his shoulder. And, just as he'd hoped, Mrs. Fisher was running after him, away from Jonah. Finn knew that he was in more trouble than he'd ever been in before, but he couldn't stop the grin which was spreading across his face.


	38. Chapter 39

**Part Thirty-Nine: Adanna**

Adanna hated hospitals. They were always so depressing. She was currently in a maternity ward, which, technically should have been the happiest part of the place, since the birth of a baby is usually a joyous occasion, but even the maternity ward was depressing. The floors were made of cheap plastic, the lights were harsh strips of brightness and the walls were grey. Why would anyone paint walls anywhere grey?

The sounds were getting to her too. The place was filled with doctors saying incomprehensible, yet terrifying things such as _'we've got a 411 in 3B. Get a 223 down there, stat.' _And the doctors' voices were accompanied by sinister electronic sounds; beeps and hums, sounds which could signal happiness or despair in an instant. Worst of all were the human noises – the screams of pain from closed-off private rooms, the wails of infants, the moans and sighs of those in the waiting room.

Cesca was moaning too. The younger woman was lying on a bed in one of those horrible little closed-off rooms, waiting for the latest in a long series of midwives to return. Adanna sat on a hard, plastic chair beside her friend, wondering what on earth it was that the midwives kept having to leave the room to discuss. She was ashamed to admit it, but she was utterly terrified. The atmosphere in the room was so cold, so clinical, so forbidding. And all the equipment laid out on a nearby table seemed to hint at all the things which could go wrong. All around her, Adanna could hear snatches of conversation from other rooms. Words like _'forceps' _and_ 'preeclampsia' _and _'caesarean' _kept floating through the walls to her and Adanna had no idea if the words were being spoken about Cesca or some other poor woman.

Cesca could hear them too, but they didn't seem to be making much of an impression on her. She had withdrawn into herself entirely. She hadn't spoken a single word for nearly an hour now. She seemed to be inhabiting her own private universe filled with pain and very little else. Silent tears were running down her cheeks and she was biting her lip, perhaps to stop herself from crying out. She looked very small and very young. There was a vulnerability in her eyes which Adanna had never seen there before.

Adanna reached out and took one of her friend's hands in both her own, offering what comfort she could. Cesca's fingers were tiny, delicate, trembling. All at once, Adanna felt a wave of love and protectiveness for her friend wash over her. She knelt down and softly kissed Cesca's burning forehead in a gesture which was entirely platonic and caused by a feeling of sisterhood, nothing more.

'I'm here, Ces,' she whispered. As she said it, a new thought struck her. What if Cesca's mystery boyfriend didn't actually exist? What if the child was the result of a one night stand with a drunken stranger? What if Cesca really was as alone as she seemed? The more she thought about it, the more this explanation seemed to make sense to Adanna. She squeezed her friend's hand tighter and, after a moment, felt an answering squeeze from the younger woman. 'You're not alone,' Adanna said softly. 'I know your family are a long way away, but they love you and they'll always be there for you. And all your friends will always be there for you too. We care about you. You're really not alone.'

At Adanna's words, Cesca managed a very faint smile and said so quietly that Adanna had to lean in close to hear it 'Want to be Godmother?'

Adanna grinned. 'It would be an honour.'

The two women were silent for a moment, Cesca clinging to her friend's hand, drawing comfort from her.

The moment was broken by yet another midwife bustling into the room. 'Francesca,' she said, without preamble 'I think it's time we moved you to the delivery room.'

Adanna saw Cesca's face go pale, felt Cesca's nails digging into the palm of her hand, caught the terror in Cesca's eyes.

'Will the baby's father be joining you?' asked the midwife in a business-like tone.

Cesca seemed too scared to answer, so Adanna answered for her. 'I don't think so.'

'Will you be staying with her then?'

Adanna's first instinct was to say no. She knew nothing about having children, found the idea terrifying and nauseating in equal measure, but one glance at Cesca's face was enough to tell her that she had to stay. She nodded at the midwife, swallowing hard.

Nurses pushed Cesca on a wheeled bed down a maze of endless grey corridors until they reached a room full of even more sinister equipment. Adanna walked beside Cesca, keeping hold of her hand and trying desperately not to show how afraid she was. Cesca had stopped speaking again. When they arrived in the new room, she stared around her with wide eyes. Adanna could feel the beating of Cesca's heart through her small, frail palm. It was fast, erratic. For some reason, it reminded Adanna of the fluttering heartbeat of a caged songbird, trapped somewhere unfamiliar, unable to escape.

Cesca's moans had increased in intensity now as the child struggled to be free. She had bitten her lip so hard that she had drawn blood. The scarlet of it stood out in stark contrast to her pale face. Now though, Cesca seemed to have given up the battle to stay silent. She threw back her head, arched her back and screamed just once, loud and long. The midwives ignored it, but Adanna was chilled to the very core of her being.

The door opened and yet another blue-uniformed midwife made her way inside, but this one came towards Adanna, not Cesca. 'There's a boy outside,' she said. 'He wants to see Francesca.'

'A boy?'

'Yes, in a Waterloo Road uniform. He's being very insistent.'

Intrigued, Adanna reassured Cesca that she would be back soon and then followed the midwife out of the room. There, in the corridor, was just about the last person Adanna had expected to see.

'Jonah?' she said. 'What are you doing here?'

'I need to see Miss Montoya.' There was desperation in the boy's voice.

'I'm afraid you can't, Jonah.'

'You don't understand. I have to.' He seemed to be on the brink of tears.

Unbidden, a memory surfaced in Adanna's mind. Chris had mentioned Jonah after that long-ago trip to Oxford. He'd said that the boy had had a crush on Cesca and Adanna had laughed and told him half the sixth form had a crush on Cesca. Then, at the school prom, Cesca had looked so beautiful and she's followed Jonah outside and no one had thought anything of it, but, looking back, there had been something in the way she'd smiled at him, something in her eyes. And she talked about him a lot, more than a teacher should talk about a pupil…

Adanna looked into Jonah's desperate face, heard the tremor in his voice and understanding, cold and unwelcome, dawned.

'Please let me see her.'

Before Adanna had a chance to answer, her phone began to ring. She brought it to her ear and heard Karen Fisher's frantic voice asking 'Is Jonah Kirby with you? Is he at the hospital?'

'Yes.' Adanna could hardly get the word out.

'He's the father of Cesca's baby.'

'I know.' Adanna hung up and stared at Jonah, not knowing what she should do.


	39. Chapter 40

**Part Forty: Adanna**

Adanna was caught in the middle. Jonah was in front of her, his desperate eyes fixed on her face, and Cesca was behind her, her desperate moans of pain audible through the door. Adanna looked back and forth between Jonah and the closed door. She knew what she should do and she knew what her heart was telling her to do and they were very different things.

'You have to let me see her.' Jonah's voice wasn't aggressive or demanding. Instead it was plaintive, pleading.

'I can't do that.' Adanna tried to keep her voice steady, tried to make herself believe in what she was saying. In her hand, her phone was going crazy. Karen kept trying to call her and she'd sent text messages too, messages telling Adanna that she shouldn't under any circumstances let Jonah see Cesca, reminding her that their relationship was illegal and immoral. In Karen's position, Adanna would have been sending similar messages, but she wasn't in Karen's position, wasn't sitting in a remote office five miles away. Instead she was with them, between them, hearing the sounds of the hospital, smelling that awful, clinical smell, seeing the tears of frustration which were forming in Jonah's eyes.

'I can't let her be on her own.'

Every word Jonah spoke seemed to stab her through the heart, seemed to chip away at her resolution to follow Karen's instructions.

'I love her.'

Part of Adanna protested when she heard this. _'He's just a boy'_ it said _'he doesn't know what love is'_, but the part of her which was looking at him thought differently. That part of her looked into his eyes and saw shining there a love more intense than anything she herself had ever experienced.

'I love my baby too and I need to be there.'

He was a child. He shouldn't be having a baby at all and yet there was a certain maturity about him. He'd never been like the other boys in his class. Perhaps it was because he'd been home educated and spent so much time around adults, perhaps it was just his personality, but, whatever it was, he certainly spoke and thought like someone much older, like someone responsible enough to be a parent.

'Jonah, have you thought this through, really thought it through?' She knew the question was coming months too late, but she had to ask.

'Of course I have! I love her.'

'You keep saying that and I don't doubt that you mean it, but have you thought about what you'll have to give up. What about university? What about your family?'

'My family,' he was becoming frantic now 'my family are in there' He pointed to the door behind Adanna.

And she realised that he was right. The situation wasn't ideal. It wasn't the future any of them had mapped out for him. Instead, it was the future he'd chosen for himself. Cesca was his family now, Cesca and their baby. Adanna looked towards the door again, her eyes lingering on the glass panel through which she could just make out the shape of Cesca.

Seeing her wavering, Jonah took a step forwards. 'Please let me go in there. What difference does it make now anyway? Cesca and I have already broken all the rules. We can't break anymore, so why not let us be together just once more? You're her friend. You know she needs someone with her.'

It was this last statement which finally changed Adanna's mind. The wave of love she'd felt for her friend earlier was fresh in her mind, along with the image of how small and helpless Cesca had looked, how she'd clung to her hand. Cesca did need him.

Thrusting her phone, and with it, the spectre of Karen, deep into her bag, Adanna opened the door of the delivery room and motioned him inside. He took a deep breath and went through.

Adanna followed him in. Cesca's bed was completely surrounded by midwives. Adanna couldn't even see her through the crowd and, presumably, she couldn't see them. As one, all the midwives had turned to stare at Jonah, conspicuous in his school uniform.

'You can't bring a child in here.' One of them said, outraged.

'He's not a child,' Adanna hesitated 'He's the father.'

The midwives all began chattering at once, shock on their faces. 'He's underage.' This was from the same midwife as before.

'He's eighteen.'

'He's still at school. He can't be in here.'

Adanna could see movement from the bed now, could hear Cesca moving around, struggling to see what was going on. The midwives had closed around the her again.

'Jonah, maybe we should wait outside.' She didn't want to cause Cesca any more stress than was necessary.

'I'm not going anywhere.' It was the first time Jonah had spoken since entering the room. His voice was loud, clear, edged with steel.

Cesca seemed to have heard him because her voice came from behind the wall of midwives. It was faint and cracked and it called out his name with more emotion than Adanna had ever heard from a single word before. Then, the word changed to a cry of pain and a horrible sobbing sound.

Jonah started forwards and, this time, the midwives didn't try to stop him. They parted in front of him, leaving the path to the bed clear. Jonah ran to Cesca and sat next to her on the bed, taking her in his arms, cradling her body close to his. She clutched at him for support, sobbing into his chest. 'I love you, I love you,' he whispered over and over again as he stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth. Adanna felt a tear running down her cheek as she watched them, overcome with emotion at the sight of their reunion.

In her bag, her phone was ringing again. Very quietly, Adanna slipped from the room and prepared to face the wrath of Karen Fisher.


	40. Chapter 41

**Part Forty-One: Jonah**

Jonah didn't know what to do. Cesca was on the bed with her h thrown back in pain and silent tears running down her cheeks. He was beside her, holding her tightly in his arms, telling her that he loved her again and again and feeling utterly useless. He wanted to take her pain away and yet he couldn't. He felt guilty about getting her into this situation in the first place, felt like he had caused her this pain.

And it wasn't just physical pain which he had caused her. Now that everyone knew about them, he'd almost certainly caused her to lose her job and perhaps even her freedom. At the thought of Cesca in prison, he pulled her shaking body closer to him. He couldn't let that happen. He shouldn't have pursued her like he had. That time, all those months ago, when she'd phoned him, seeking comfort after Mr Clarkson had been attacked; he should have made an excuse, refused to go to her house. The se wouldn't be here now, screaming in pain, with the threat of a prison sentence hanging over her. Even back then, he'd already fallen in love with her. He should have been strong enough to let her go.

She screamed again and the scream was followed by a series of choking sobs which seemed to stab him through the heart, seemed to tear and rip at his very soul. He kissed her hair, cradled her against him, rocking her back ad forth like a child. He should have let her go, but, at the same time, despite everything, he couldn't' help being glad that he hadn't. A series of images took shape before his eyes. He remembered how she had looked on the night of the school prom, a silver dress clinging to the contours of her body, giving her an ethereal, queenly air, and he remembered how she'd smiled a smile which was just for him. He envisaged the first time he'd held her as she slept, felt anew the wonder of that moment, heard again her soft, musical voice as she'd told him about their baby. His min was filled with a thousand such images of her; the way the sun picked out the highlights in her bright ebony hair, the sight of her putting on make-up in the morning, smiling as she did so, the sound of her laughter. Images of everyday things, ordinary thing, but things made somehow extraordinary by her presence. He should have been strong enough to let her go, but he knew that he never could have done it. And he knew now that he could never go back to a life without her. It would be like asking one of the denizens of Plato's cave, a man who has lived his whole life in darkness, to descend back into the darkness with no hope of escape, after he has freed himself from the cave and seen the beauty of the sun.

All the same, he still felt guilty for all the pain he'd caused her, was causing her. She was his sun, his universe, but perhaps the feelings weren't reciprocated, perhaps she hated him right now, regretted becoming involved with him. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered as she moaned again.

'Why?' She looked up at him with confusion in her wide dark eyes.

'I'm sorry for doing this to you, sorry that you're hurting.' She didn't know yet that everyone had found out about them and he couldn't' bear to tell her.

She managed a weak smile. 'Don't be sorry, Love. I'm not. I don't regret any of it. This is where I want to be.'

'Are you sure?' He had to know.

'I've never been more sure of anything.'

Finally he allowed his own features to re-arrange themselves into a smile. 'I love you so much,' he whispered, tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes.

Her whole body shuddered as a new pain hit and left her gasping for breath and clutching at him with desperate fingers. 'Don't leave me.' Her voice was so quiet that it was little more than an interruption in the rhythm of her breathing. 'I don't think I can do this alone.'

'I'm not going anywhere, darling, I'm not going anywhere.'

And then there began a timeless time for Jonah. Somewhere outside the little grey walled room, life as happening, but Jonah was unaware of it. All around the world, people were getting married, getting divorced, laughing, fighting, shouting, kissing. Politicians made world changing decisions. Far away, deep in an arid dessert a tornado hit, bringing destruction with it. In the far, frozen north, an oil tanker ploughed into an iceberg and environmentalists predicted disaster. Closer to home, Finn Sharkey, sitting in the cooler, received a text from Sam Kelly asking him out, Ronan and Vicki had an argument in the middle of a crowded playground and fifty sixth formers sat an A-level English exam and, in the middle of them, was an empty desk with Jonah's name on it. Jonah nether knew or cared about any of these things. Everything that mattered, really mattered was in the room with him.

Cesca was writhing on he bed, her face damp with sweat, her hair plastered to it. For a while she screamed and then her screams were replaced by moans and sobs. Her fingers were squeezing his hands tighter and tighter, her eyes were wide and staring. Again an again he begged the nurses and doctors to do something for her, to take her pain away and again and again they told him there was nothing they could do.

Every so often, she would clamber to her feet and pace around the room, driven by a kind of inner energy he couldn't begin to understand and he would support her while she did so, holding up her tiny body and feeling suddenly very young and very inexperienced. Then he would help her back to the bed and she would writhe and moan once more and once more he would hold her, wishing he could do something, anything more.

The midwives were being more friendly now. As the hours passed, they began to smile at him, to whisper words of encouragement. 'You're coping very well,' one of them told him 'Most men would have freaked out by this point.' He didn't like to tell her that inside he's already freaked out and had now moved beyond it into a state of controlled panic. For some reason he wished that his father was there with him, wished that Marcus could make everything better as he had when Jonah had been a child.

'I can't do this.' The voice was Cesca's and it was filled with utter defeat. 'I can't do this anymore.'

Jonah was sat beside her bed, holding on to her hand, but now he got up onto the bed behind her wrapped his arms around her and let her lean back into him, supporting her as much as he could. 'We'll get through this,' he whispered into her hair.

He half expected her to swear at him, tell his that it wasn't him who was having to go through it, but she didn't. All she did was had turn around and hide her head in his chest as yet another pain hit her. Jonah was struck by how brave she was, how strong, how, even now, she was so, so beautiful.

Outside, a blustery summer's day had given way to an evening thunderstorm. The sky turned an angry, greenish colour and lightening flashed over Rochdale. The rain fell was startling ferocity. All over the city, people, young and old, raced for shelter from the lashing rain and the driving wind. Darkness fell and still the storm continued. The streets emptied, lights came on in houses, in bars, in cinemas and theatres as people huddled inside and watched the downpour. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the storm ended. The drumming of the rain was replaced by a moment of startling stillness.

And, in that moment of stillness, Cesca gave one last scream. It rent the air, pierced every corner of Jonah's heart and then, in a rush of heat and blood and confusion, another person was in the room. Without really knowing what was happening, Jonah felt a warm bundle being pushed into his arms and he heard Cesca sobbing again, but with joy this time. He looked down and there, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes, was his daughter.


	41. Chapter 42

_Author's note: Hey! Thank you for all the comments! here's the next part and sorry about the really rubbish baby name - I couldn't think of anything better! A couple of people have been asking how long this is going to be - I think there are going to be around ten more parts, but I haven't quite decided on the ending yet, so I'm not completely sure!_

**Part Forty-Two: Cesca**

Cesca slowly drifted back to consciousness. She was aware that she'd been asleep for a while and that her body felt different somehow. Then she remembered everything and felt a great happiness washing over her. She had a daughter. She and Jonah had a daughter. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around that idea yet.

She lay still for a moment with her eyes closed, just savouring the feeling of contentment which was coursing through her. Then, as she started to wake up properly, a voice which was soft and reminded her of warm silk began to filter through to her.

'…And here are the Pleiades and over there is Ursa Major, the great bear. See, if you look closely, you can make out is head and over there is its tail…'

Cesca opened her eyes and there he was. Jonah, standing in silhouette against the open window, with their child in his arms. There was no trace no trace now of the storm which had torn through the air earlier and stars were visible in the clear summer night sky. Jonah was pointing out the stars to the baby. Cesca felt a single tear slide down her cheek. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.

'How's the astronomy lesson going?' She said, a smile in her voice.

He turned, his face flushing with embarrassment. 'One of the first things I remember,' he said 'was my dad naming the stars for me…I know it's silly because she doesn't understand what I'm saying yet, but it just seemed…appropriate somehow…'

Cesca smiled to reassure him. 'Come here,' she whispered.

He came across the room to her and placed their child in her arms. Then he sat don behind her, encircling both of them in a warm, strong embrace. Cesca leaned back into him, wrapped up securely in a cocoon of love and contentment.

'She's beautiful, isn't she?' Jonah was looking over her shoulder at the baby.

Cesca too was studying her daughter. Her eyes were roving over ever part of the child's face as if trying to memorize her features. The baby had wide, dark eyes and a delicate chin in a round face. She really was beautiful and Cesca felt as if she knew her, as if she recognized her somehow.

The baby looked like Jonah. She could see him in every part of the tiny face, but she looked like other people too. Cesca could see herself there and she could see her own mother in the child's eyes, her grandmother in the chin. It was as if Cesca could see all her ancestors lined up, generations of women, and she herself was at the head of the line with the baby in her arms, and all of them, all the thousands of them, were cut from the same mould, were aspects of the same whole. And, one day, her daughter would have children and grandchildren of her own and the line would carry on, stretching out into the future, extending on further than Cesca could comprehend.

'I love you,' she whispered to the child and it was the truth. It was a different kind of love to anything she'd ever felt before. It was pure and perfect, innocent and unconditional. Then, she tore her eyes away from the baby and turned to face Jonah. 'And I love you.'

'I love you too.' He bent his head and kissed her full on the mouth. It wasn't a kiss fuelled by passion or desire. Instead, it was a kiss full of quiet joy and comfort and the promise of a future.

Afterwards, they went back to staring at the baby with eyes filled with wonder. Cesca felt that she could look at her forever and still not have looked enough.

'Everyone knows.' Jonah said suddenly, his voice soft and without emotion. He'd clearly resigned himself to the inevitable. Cesca had too. She'd known their secret was out the moment she'd seen Jonah with Adanna. Strangely, she felt relieved. He didn't have to hide anything anymore.

'They were going to find out eventually.' She realized as she said it that it was true. No matter what they'd planned, there was no way they could have kept the baby's parentage a secret. It wouldn't have been fir on anyone.

'What should we do?' For the fist time, Jonah sounded as young as he was.

Cesca shrugged. 'Nothing. It's out of our hands now.'

'I guess it is.' Jonah fell silent. Neither of them wanted to mention the possibility of prison, of separation. Unconsciously, Cesca shifted position to bring more of her body into contact with Jonah and she held the child tighter against her. In response, the baby moved a little, nestling closer, and, in spite of everything, Cesca smiled.

'She needs a name,' she said, partly to distract herself from everything else. As she said it she was truck with enormity of the responsibility of choosing something which would identify, label, her child forever. 'Any ideas?' she turned to Jonah, hoping for inspiration, but he just shook his head.

They'd talked about it of course, draw up shortlists of names, almost decided on 'Lydia', but now, looking at the baby, it didn't seem quite right.

'It should mean something.' This was from Jonah.

'How about Bella because she's beautiful?

'Too _'Twilight.'_'

'You have a point.'

They resumed staring at the baby, looking for inspiration.

'Amy?' Jonah suggested. 'It means 'love.''

'And reminds me of Amy Porter.'

Jonah laughed. 'Perhaps not then.'

Cesca looked down at the child and then, without warning, inspiration struck. 'Beatrice.' She said.

'Beatrice?' Jonah didn't sound convinced.

'It means 'joy' and I think she's going to bring us a lot of joy. She already has in fact. And then there's Dante's _'Inferno'_ of course.'

'Dante's _'Inferno'_?'

'In the _'Inferno'_, Beatrice is the name of the woman the narrator is in love with. He journeys to the underworld to save her and he's willing to sacrifice anything for her.'

Now Jonah was smiling. 'Well I'd certainly sacrifice anything for this little one. Beatrice it is.'

Cesca smiled too. She didn't know what was going to happen next, but she did know that it wasn't going to be easy. All that mattered though was at right now she was happy and she was with her family, with Jonah and Beatrice, the two most important people in the world.


	42. Chapter 43

**Part Forty-Three: Karen**

Karen had bee cast as the Wicked Witch in the upcoming school pantomime. She was starting to think it was a case of art imitating life. She certainly felt like she was the Wicked Witch as she sat at the breakfast table being glared at by Harry and Jess. Nether of them had said a word to her since she'd come downstairs. It was hardly surprising really; Jess had dated Jonah for a while and she was still fond of him and Harry was friends with Ruth and both of them knew that Karen was about to go to the hospital with the intention of ending Jonah's relationship with his Spanish teacher.

Finally Karen could stand the silent glares no longer. 'Miss Montoya took advantage of him.' She said without preamble. 'I have to put an end to this.'

'They're in love.' This was from Jess. 'Why should hey be punished for falling in love?'

'They're not in love.'

'Jonah says they are.' Jess had folded harms defiantly.

'Fine.' Karen stood up. She didn't have the energy to argue. 'Even if they are in love, Miss Montoya still abused her position of trust and I still have to put a stop to it.'

'You can't just put a stop to it, Mum! They have a baby and they're engaged! It's gone too far for you to put a stop to it!'

'I'm not listening to this, Jess.' Karen was already picking up her coat and heading for the door.

'You can't make everyone live according to your rules…'

With a sigh, Karen closed the front door behind her, cutting Jess off in mid-sentence.

She knew that she should call the police there and then, get the whole thing over with, but se couldn't quite bring herself too. She needed to go to the hospital, needed to see them for herself.

When she arrived at the hospital, Adanna was waiting for her. The other woman was sat on a hard plastic chair, twisting her hands together nervously and looking as though she hadn't slept in a long time. At the sight of Karen, Adanna sprang to her feet.

'I know I should have called the police when Jonah came here yesterday…' She began.

'It's ok, Adanna. No one expected you to call them while she was having the baby.'

Adanna still looked troubled.

'Adanna, just say whatever it is which is on your mind.'

'It's them,' Adanna gestured to the room behind her which presumably contained Jonah and Cesca. 'I'm not sure we should be calling the police at all.'

'Adanna…' There was a warning note in Karen's voice.

'They seem so happy together. I don't think she took advantage of him. Honestly think they fell in love.'

'I know Cesca's your friend, but…'

'That's got nothing to do with it. I'd think the same even I didn't know either of them. You just have to look at them together to see they're in love.'

Karen wasn't convinced. She'd lain awake all night turning the situation over and over in her mind, trying to put herself in Cesca's place, but no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't see how Cesca could have fallen in love with a teenager. The whole thing was all too easy to understand from Jonah's point of view – older women were alluring and Cesca was beautiful – but not from Cesca's. As far as Karen could see, Cesca must have gone into the relationship hoping for a quick fling with no strings attached, a liaison which was strictly for pleasure. She couldn't fathom how Cesca could have formed any kind of emotional attachment to someone as young as Jonah.

Karen went past Adanna and looked through the glass panel in the door of the room behind her. She didn't know what she was expecting to see; a scene of some debauchery perhaps, some evidence that Cesca was abusing her pupil. Instead she was greeted by a sight which was disconcerting in its sweetness, its ordinariness. Jonah was sat on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Curled up against his chest was a sleeping Cesca and in her arms was the baby. Jonah had his arms round the two of them, was smiling down on them with an expression on his face which, even Karen had to admit, resembled love.

For a moment, she was transported back to another time, another place. She remembered waking up in a hospital bed very like this one and holding a newborn Bex in her arms. She remembered the pure joy ad contentment of that moment, remembered looking up and seeing Charlie watching the two of them with the same expression Jonah was wearing now. Without wanting to, she found herself trying o imagine what it would have felt like to have been torn from Bex and Charlie at that moment and she found that she couldn't. Losing Bex as a teenager had been akin to having her heart ripped in two, but losing her as a baby, as a newborn, having to entrust her to the care of strangers, would have been a thousand times more horrific.

For a moment, just a moment, Karen's heart went out to Cesca. She allowed herself to imagine the terror the younger woman must be feeling, the dread of the future which must be filling her, but then Karen's eyes travelled around the little hospital room once more and fell upon Jonah's school tie which must have been removed at some point during the night and flung over the back of a chair. Suddenly she remembered that the baby wasn't the only child in that room. She was Jonah's headteacher and se had a responsibility to act as such.

She turned from the window and faced Adanna again. 'Had anyone told Marcus about this?'

'I told him yesterday.'

'I'm surprised he isn't here.'

'He's on his way. He came yesterday too, but the nurses wouldn't let him into the delivery room.'

'I take it he's not pleased.'

'You could say that.'

'Well I'm glad I don't have to tell him at least.' As she spoke, Karen pulled her phone from her bag and began to dial a number.

Adanna realized what she was doing at once. 'Karen don't…'

But Karen ignored her and ignored also the way her heart had begun to race and the feeling of guilt welling up inside her chest as she spoke into the phone. 'Police please.'


	43. Chapter 44

**Part Forty-Four: Jonah**

The strong, clear light of early morning gave way to the gentler brightness of midday and still Cesca slept on. Jonah stayed still, not daring to move even a centimetre in case he should wake her and waking her was the last thing he wanted to do. She seemed calm now, serene, content almost and, above all, blissfully unaware of the storm which Jonah was sure was approaching.

He knew exactly what was going to happen. He'd been wide awake all morning and he'd seen Mrs. Fisher look through the glass panel in the door, watched as her eyes had roved over him and Cesca. For a moment, there had been compassion in her face and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it had gone, to be replaced with a look of stern determination. Jonah hadn't seen what happened next, after she moved away from the door, but he could imagine it all too well. He could see her in his mind's eye as she dialled a number, just three little digits which would determine his future, and raised her phone to her ear. For the briefest of seconds, he allowed himself to hope that she might perhaps have decided not to call the police, might have just walked out of the hospital, might have simply decided to let them be, but, deep down, he knew that she hadn't. It wasn't within her personality to do so. Karen Fisher was a woman who followed rules absolutely. She was strict, she had little time for those who lived in a way which she didn't agree with. And her dislike of Cesca was no secret. Of course she had called the police. It was just a matter of time until they arrived.

Against his chest, Cesca stirred in her sleep and Jonah willed her not to wake up just yet. He didn't want her to know what was going to happen, wanted to protect her from that at least. The child in her arms was stirring too and, without fully waking up, Cesca held her daughter closer to her and murmured something reassuring. Cesca was so natural with Beatrice. The two of them seemed to share a connection which was deep and binding and unbreakable already. The thought that they would soon be parted from each other was unbearable.

Yet, at the same time, Jonah had resigned himself to it. His instinct had always been to live in the moment, to be concerned with the present and ignore thoughts of the past or future, but Cesca thought differently. She was always planning, thinking ahead and, some of her way of thinking had started to influence Jonah. He felt able to look to the future now. He was secure in the knowledge that Cesca loved him and that their separation, however hard, would be temporary. They would be together someday, would raise their daughter together someday.

And he felt tired, tired of always sneaking around, always hiding, always running. He didn't have the energy to fight the world anymore.

'They're coming, aren't they?' Cesca had woken up properly now and was looking at him, her dark eyes filled with acceptance of the inevitable.

He nodded, suddenly unable to speak, fighting the urge to cling to her. He felt as though he was stood on the deck of a sinking ship, unable to stop what was happening, able only to hold on for as long as he possibly could before he was swallowed by the murky waters below.

He saw Cesca swallow hard, visibly compose herself. 'I wish the world would just leave us alone.'

'I wish that too.' For the briefest of instants, he imagined taking Cesca and Beatrice and just running as far and as fast as he could, but even as he thought it he knew it would never work.

'You will wait for me, won't you? You won't go off with some pretty sixth former?' Cesca was doing her best to keep her tone light, but she couldn't conceal the edge of barely controlled panic in her voice.

'I'll be waiting for you. Always.' He could barely get the words out.

'And you'll take care of our baby. You won't let her forget me.'

'Of course she won't forget you.' Tears were sliding down his face now.

Cesca was crying too. She nestled closer to him, arms wrapped around the baby. 'I love you,' she whispered 'I love you both so, so much.'

'And I love you.'

He kissed her then. It was long and lingering and desperate in a quiet sort of a way. He never wanted it to end, but, of course, it did, and, asif on cue, two policemen stepped into the room.

'Francesca Montoya?' One of them asked.

Jonah wanted her to deny it, to pretend to be someone else, give a false name, but she didn't. Somehow, she had composed herself enough to stand up and kiss her daughter. Then she handed Beatrice to him and he saw that she was shaking, that silent tears were running down her cheeks. He took the baby and kissed Cesca quickly. Neither of them spoke, there was nothing to say, but they held one another's gaze for a long moment and communicated more in that moment than they could ever have said with words.

Then she was gone. Just like that. A half-remembered line of poetry made its way into Jonah's mind; _'This is how the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper...'_ He sank down onto the bed, feeling empty and more alone than he ever had before. Cesca had gone.

Beatrice began to cry, a loud keening wail which told not of hunger or thirst, but of loneliness as desperate and complete as his own, a yearning for Cesca which he felt all too vividly.

'Hush now, baby girl...' he whispered to her 'It's ok, everything's ok...' They both knew he was lying.

'Jonah.' Marcus' voice, firm and resonant, came from the doorway. Anger flooded through Jonah, but only for a second. In spite of himself, he felt something akin to relief at seeing his father. On some level, he hated Marcus for allowing Karen to call the police, but, on another level, he was just glad that someone had come to take him home.


	44. Chapter 45

_Author's note: Thank you so much for all the review/comments on this! I'm a technological dinosaur and can't work out how to reply to individual comments on here, but I just wanted to say that I do appreciate them!_

_Also, someone wanted to know where the line of poetry in the last part was from. It's the last line of 'The Hollow Men' by T.S. Elliot._

_And I should probably also just warn you that this next part has some self-harm in it._

**Part Forty-Five: Cesca**

Cesca studies her reflection in the mirror. She'd avoided looking in it as much as possible during the month that she'd spent living in this room, but, today, she forced herself to examine her own features. She was surprised by what she saw. She didn't look like herself anymore. Her face, stripped of make-up and moisturiser, looked strangely bare; her lips seemed pale, her cheeks hollow. Her eyes were rimmed by dark circles and she looked washed out, older somehow. And her hair was a mess. She hadn't bothered brushing it carefully for a while now and there was no such thing as a hairdryer or deep conditioning shampoo in this place.

She sighed and tried to arrange her hair into something resembling a style. Her fingers were shaking as she did so and she couldn't get the parting right, couldn't concentrate on getting it right. There was a lump in her throat, a kind of blockage somewhere in the vicinity of her chest which just wouldn't go away. And she was tired, so, so tired.

Giving up on her hair, she moved away from the mirror and sat down on the bed, hands folded passively. She stared into space, eyes focused on nothing. There was nothing there for them to focus on in this blank whiteness of a room. All that was in here was the hard bed in which she tossed and turned night after night, the bleak little mirror above the equally bleak little sink and a chair by the window. She could sit in the chair, again with hands passively folded, and look out of the window. Not that there was anything to see, just a tiny stone-walled yard, sometimes empty, sometimes filled with women dressed identically to her with the same greasy hair and dry skin.

Cesca had never seen women like these before. They were sharp-eyed and hard-faced, alert to everything around them, always on guard. And they hated her. They thought her posh and stuck-up, but, worse than that, they thought she was a child-molester. Some of them had sons of Jonah's age or younger and they looked at her in disgust, spat at her as she passed them by. Many of them had done things which were far worse, but it seemed as though she had done the thing which was worst of all, had crossed some invisible boundary, had hurt a child.

Sometimes Cesca caught herself wondering if these women were right. Maybe she had hurt him, taken advantage of him. Maybe she had cheated him of his childhood. She'd certainly caused him pain, was still causing him pain now. She'd dragged him into situations no one of his age should be in and she'd forced him to occupy a role which should have been reserved for one much older than he. She loved him with every fibre of her being and she couldn't bear the thought that she had hurt him.

She knew she was hurting her daughter too. Beatrice needed a mother and didn't have one. Every time she thought of the child, the permanent ache in Cesca's chest reached frightening new heights. She knew of course that Beatrice was safe with Jonah, but still, the separation was almost too much for her. She was haunted by the spectre of her daughter, would wake sometimes in the middle of the night convinced that she had heard a baby crying only to be greeted by the cold, empty silence of the cell.

On nights like these, Cesca's thoughts were dark. For the first few nights, she had been filled with a kind of furious desperation, the need to do something, anything, to show herself that she still had control of any kind at all. She began to sneak razor blades into the cell with her, to scrape away at her own flesh, needing to mask the ache in her soul with something more manageable. She revelled in the pain, in a pain which was purely physical. The sight of her own blood running down her arms and her shoulders filled her with a sense of power. She had done this, she had caused this. Even locked away and forgotten as was, she still had the power to cause something.

Of course, they had found the razors, had seen the blood stains, startling and vivid, on the white plastic floor. They'd taken the blades from her and dragged her in to see a psychiatrist. He'd told her things that she already knew; that she was depressed, that she missed her baby. She wanted to scream at him to stop stating the obvious, had to stop herself from falling to her knees and begging him to let her see Beatrice and Jonah. The psychiatrist had put her on drugs and she had gone to great lengths to avoid taking them. She knew that they would calm her down, stop her feeling the aching loneliness which consumed her, but she didn't want to be calm. She wanted to cling to her feelings, however negative, because they were all that she had left now.

Soon enough she calmed down anyway. Instead of being seized by a furious destructive energy, she felt as if someone had smothered her with a damp, heavy blanket and it was holding her down, forcing her to lock away her feelings because she didn't really feel anything anymore, didn't have the energy to do anything anymore. She stopped eating because she didn't see the point and she stopped sleeping because of the nightmares which gripped her everytime she did. She became entirely passive.

Through it all, she clung to images of Jonah from happier times, trying to convince herself that she hadn't hurt him after all by remembering all the moments of happiness they had shared. And she clung to imagined images of her daughter, tried to make herself believe that Beatrice was as happy as she could be, that she was better off without her.

The shadows outside the room were changing now, the sun was moving through the sky towards its midday zenith. Cesca twisted her hands nervously, some of her passivity beginning to dissipate. Today was the day of her trial, the day she would find out exactly how long she had to spend in this place, how long she would be separated from Jonah and Beatrice. If the judge was lenient she could be here for a few more months and if he wasn't then she could be here for years and she wasn't sure she could stand tat. She was reliant upon the kindness of strangers, upon the way in which people she hardly knew would characterize her relationship with Jonah and she was reliant upon the witness statements too, upon Karen Fisher, Adanna, Marcus Kirby…Other than Adanna, none of them were particularly fond of her. Cesca felt a single tear running down her cheek as she imagined a bleak void of a future without Jonah and Beatrice.


	45. Chapter 46

**Part Forty-Six: Marcus**

Marcus wasn't a man who was easily scared, but, right now, he was terrified. Jonah's behaviour was unsettling him, playing on his mind. He loved his children more than anything or anyone else and he couldn't bear to see them hurt or in pain. He'd thought that Jonah's separation from Cesca would be for the best, thought Jonah would start to forget his feelings for her, make a life for himself and his daughter, but it hadn't happened.

Marcus felt as though he was living with the ghost of his son. The boy was pale and quiet. He drifted around the house like a shadow or a reflection of the vital, energetic person he had been. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he didn't even really talk anymore.

Jonah still did everything that was expected of him; he went to school, he did his homework, he got good grades, but he seemed to take no pleasure in it anymore. He seemed hollow somehow. It was as if he was just putting on an unconvincing show of normality for the outside world. Marcus hadn't seen him smile in weeks.

Anything would have been better than this silence, this flatness. Marcus almost wished that Jonah would get angry with him, wished he shout or smash things. Anything to show that he still had the energy to fight, to care.

The only time the silence was broken was when Jonah was with Beatrice. He was wholly devoted to her now, spent every moment he could with her. He would play with her, sing to her, talk to her, but it was as of the two of them were in a private world to which no one else could be admitted. As soon as Marcus or Ruth or anyone else came within sight, Jonah would stop whatever game he was playing with Beatrice and go back to his default state of introverted silence.

Jonah wasn't the only one who was being unnaturally quiet. Beatrice was the most undemanding baby Marcus had ever met. She was still too young to laugh or smile, but she rarely cried and, when she did, her cries seemed to speak of a deep emotional pain. It was as if she knew that there was something missing from her life, as if she yearned for Cesca just as strongly as Jonah did. Whenever Jonah came near her, she would reach out her arms to him and he would pick her up, holding her close and there seemed to Marcus to be something utterly forlorn about the two of them. They loved each other, delighted in each other's company, but there was still something missing and that something was Cesca.

On the morning of Cesca's trial, Marcus was woken early by Beatrice crying from the room which had once been the guest room and now was hers. He was struck by how quickly that room had become most definitely hers, how quickly she'd become an integral part of his family. He hurried out of bed and reached her before Jonah did, taking her in his arms and rocking her gently until she calmed down a little. When Jonah had first brought her home, Marcus had worried that he would find it hard to love her even if she was his granddaughter. After all, he hadn't exactly welcomed the news that his teenage son was having a baby with his Spanish teacher.

Beatrice though, was an easy baby to love. And so looked so much like Jonah had at that age. She had his features, his expressions. Every day, Beatrice seemed to take hold of another piece of his heart, and all he wanted to do was make her happy. He was starting to hope that the judge would be lenient with Cesca. He didn't much like the woman, he thought what had happened between her and Jonah was wrong, but, on another level he knew that Beatrice needed her mother.

'Do you want me to take her?' A half-awake Jonah had appeared in the doorway.

'No, it's ok. You go and get some sleep.'

To Marcus' surprise, Jonah didn't leave and retreat back into his private world. Instead, he came further into the room and sat down on the windowsill, watching Marcus and Beatrice. He seemed to want to talk, but it was as if he'd been silent for so long that he couldn't quite work out how to begin.

'What are you going to say?' He blurted out at last. 'At the trial, when they ask you to give evidence, what are you going to say?'

'I don't know,' Marcus sighed and sat down next to his son. A few weeks ago, he would happily have told the court that Cesca had taken advantage of a vulnerable teenager, had forced him into a relationship. Now though, having seen the pain that Jonah was in, having seen how devoted he was to his daughter, Marcus wasn't so sure.

'I wish I could go to the trial.' Jonah had his head in his hands now.

'You know the court won't allow it. Anyway, it would be too painful for you.'

'I just want to see her again even if I'm not allowed to speak to her. I hate that she has to go through this on her own.' There was a catch in Jonah's voice, a hint of tears.

'I know, son, I know.' Marcus busied himself with rocking Beatrice, unable to think of anything else to say. Jonah was usually so strong, so calm, so mature. Marcus didn't know how to cope with this new vulnerability.

'I love her, Dad.'

'Jonah, you're too young to know what love is.'

Jonah raised his head and looked at Marcus then. There was something in Jonah's eyes, a depth of feeling which Marcus had never seen there before. 'If love is wanting to share your life completely with someone,' he said very quietly 'then I know what love is. If it's always being pleased to see someone, always wanting them to be happy more than you want yourself to be happy, if it's being willing to do anything, sacrifice anything for the other person, if it's only feeling like you're truly yourself when you're with them, if it's feeling almost physical pain when you're apart from them, then I know what love is.'

'Do you really feel that way about her?' Even as he asked the question, Marcus knew the answer, but he still had to ask.

'She completes me. It's like she's the other half of me. Nothing can be good or happy or right when she's not here.'

'Maybe you do love her then.'

Jonah paused for a moment and then asked again 'so what are you going to say at the trial?'

And, with a heavy heart, Marcus replied 'I don't know, son, I don't know.'


	46. Chapter 47

_Author's note: OK, so this part is possibly an illustration of why I've never written anything set in a courtroom before and never intend to again...Basically, it's really rubbish, but it serves its purpose plot-wise. Hopefully, the next part will be better! Also, I know that Rachel would never be allowed to be part of the jury of a trial where she knew so many people involved, but please don't judge too harshly!_

_Thank you again for all the comments!_

**Part Forty-Seven: Rachel**

Rachel Mason was nervous. She'd never had to do jury duty before and she didn't know what to expect. She was hoping that the case would be a simple one, easily resolved. Around her, the other members of the jury were rising to their feet, awaiting the entrance of the accused. Rachel joined them, peering over the head of the woman in, trying to catch a glimpse of the person whose future she had to decide. She didn't know what type of person she was expecting; a tough, sharp-faced woman perhaps or a burly man with angry eyes.

What she certainly didn't expect was a tiny, dark-haired woman with a face which would, under ordinary circumstances, be considered beautiful. The woman looked terrified. Her eyes were fixed on the floor and her hands were nervously playing with the sleeve of her jacket. Rachel wondered what on earth the woman had done. She didn't look as though she was capable of violence or malice, but Rachel knew that appearances could be misleading.

'Please be seated,' the judge was saying 'for the case of Francesca Montoya vs. the crown.' _Francesca Montoya_, Rachel knew that name, but she couldn't think where from.

The judge now turned to face the jury. 'I'm sure most of you will have read about the background to this case in the papers, but, for those of you who haven't, Miss Montoya was a teacher at Waterloo Road Comprehensive School...'

Rachel's heart sank. Why could the school never have any good publicity? Why did no one ever mention their improving exam results? The whole place just seemed to attract scandal. Rachel peered at Miss Montoya more closely. She'd never met the woman before, but the details of the case were coming back to her now. She'd just got back to Rochdale after a round-the –world trip which ended in a hasty divorce, when she'd seen the story in the paper. Her first thought had been something along the lines of _'Thank God I don't have to deal with that.'_ Rachel had encountered similar things during her time at Waterloo Road; only last year, a sixth former had accused her French teacher of sexual harassment and then there had been that incident with the pupil who had a crush on Tom, but she'd never had to deal with anything of this scale, never had to deal with a teacher who actually wanted to be in a relationship with a pupil. Rachel couldn't help wondering what Miss Montoya's motivations had been. Perhaps she'd wanted a baby. There were women who were so desperate for a child that they'd do anything to have one, but those women were usually far older.

The judge had finished speaking now and the first witness was taking the stand. Rachel realised with a start that it was Finn Sharkey, a year taller than when she'd last seen him, but otherwise remarkably unchanged. She felt a pang of sympathy for Miss Montoya; Finn had always enjoyed tormenting teachers and he was hardly likely to keep his statement unbiased.

As Finn started to speak though, Rachel was surprised. He stuck to the facts, told the court exactly what he'd seen and what he'd done and he didn't really say anything negative about his teacher. As he spoke, he looked at the floor and it seemed to Rachel that he was almost ashamed to be there.

The lawyer questioning seemed to have picked up on this too or at least picked up on the fact that Finn was keeping his own feelings to himself because she asked him why he'd started to follow Miss Montoya around in the first place.

As this, Finn's cheeks burned red. 'She picked on me in class,' he mumbled.

'Picked on you in class?'

'Yeah, she asked me questions she knew I wouldn't be able to answer, stuff like that...It made me look stupid in front of this girl I liked...'

'Are you saying she bullied you?'

Finn shook his head, looking up for the first time since the questioning had begun. 'No, she wouldn't do that. She's a good teacher, maybe the best teacher in the school and she doesn't do things like that. She picked on me because I was being stupid. I kept messing around in class, talking, not handing in homework. She was annoyed with me and I understand why she was annoyed with me. I would have been annoyed with me. I shouldn't have followed her and Jonah. It was petty and wrong'

At this Rachel was, quite frankly, astonished.

'Why didn't you go to Mrs. Fisher as soon as you found out that Miss Montoya and Jonah Kirby were having a relationship?'

Rachel had been wondering the same thing.

'At first,' Finn's voice was shaky now 'I was going to tell her straight away and then...'

'Then what?'

'Then I saw the two of them together more and more and I realised...' he hesitated '...that they were in love and that it was none of my business. I never meant to tell Mrs. Fisher at all. She found the photos on my phone by mistake.'

The witnesses who followed Finn to the stand surprised Rachel too. Tom Clarkson, who clearly had something of a crush on Miss Montoya, also insisted that her feelings for Jonah were real, other teachers and pupils claimed again and again that she would never hurt anyone. These were all people Rachel knew and trusted. She was almost starting to believe that there was some truth in it, that Miss Montoya actually had developed feelings for a sixth former and hadn't been able to stop herself acting on them.

Rachel looked up to where Miss Montoya stood. The woman's head was raised now and she was watching the trial intently, her expression unreadable as witness after witness testified in her favour. There was no hint of triumph in her and no hint of remorse either. It was as if she had simply accepted everything that was happening, had resigned herself to the judgement of others. Rachel felt a flash of admiration for the woman. There was an inner strength about her which was quite remarkable and there was something in her eyes which hinted at deep emotions, at a passion for life and for love.

By this point, Marcus Kirby, the boy's father had taken the stand and was explaining his take on events. Miss Montoya was staring at him, her gaze defiant, but despite her outward composure, Rachel could just make out a single tear running down her cheek.

'Do you believe Miss Montoya meant to harm your son?' This was from the lawyer.

'No,' Marcus Kirby's voice was loud, resonant and his answer caused a ripple of excitement to run through the courtroom. Rachel was sure she heard an audible gasp of surprise from Miss Montoya's direction.

'No?' The lawyer repeated, incredulous.

'I don't think that what Miss Montoya did was right, but I think that she was simply foolhardy. She didn't think her actions through. She developed feelings for my son and she followed her heart. She didn't intend to harm him or anyone else.'

'Your son,' the lawyer couldn't keep the disbelieving tone out of her voice 'had a baby with his Spanish teacher and you believe that that teacher didn't take advantage of him?'

'Yes. I believe that my son is in love with her. I may not like it that he is, but I've accepted it for the good of my son and of my Granddaughter. And I believe that she wants the best for Jonah, that she cares for him too much to ever knowingly hurt him.'

The lawyer was stunned into silence for a moment. Then she managed to mutter 'no more questions' before returning to her seat.

Tears were running freely down Miss Montoya's face now and she was smiling at Marcus Kirby. Somewhat awkwardly, he smiled back. Rachel felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Miss Montoya would be found guilty. There was no way to change that, but Rachel couldn't help hoping that the judge would be lenient, that he wouldn't punish two people just for falling in love.


	47. Chapter 48

**Part Forty-Eight: Cesca**

Cesca didn't really know what was happening anymore. She'd moved beyond fear, beyond anxiety into a kind of limbo, a private world where she felt nothing, registered nothing. She was aware on some level of the witnesses giving statements, talking about her and Jonah, but she didn't really know what they were saying. It didn't seem to matter. This whole exercise was pointless, a sham, a show trial. Of course she would be found guilty. There was no way the jury could decide otherwise. She'd had a baby with one of her students; that was evidence of a kind which couldn't be overlooked.

She just hoped that the judge was lenient. If she was locked away for years then she couldn't ask Jonah to wait for her – he'd have to move on with his life, find someone else. Her daughter would grow up with someone else as a mother. Cesca could feel a sob rising in her throat and she swallowed hard, trying, against all the odds, to keep composure.

The feeling of helplessness was getting to her more than anything. The jury had disappeared now, left to decide her fate in another room, and all she could do was stand here, hemmed in by a glass wall and a wooden rail, unable even to speak for herself. She imagined screaming, rushing forwards and smashing the glass in an ecstasy of movement, a frenzy of sound, forcing them to listen to her, but, even as she imagined it, she knew she couldn't do it. She had to stay calm.

The jury returned after an impossibly short time. Clearly, it had been an easy decision for them to make. The guilty verdict was read out by an auburn haired woman who looked vaguely familiar to Cesca. The woman's voice was shaking as she spoke and Cesca felt a momentary wave of compassion for her; deciding the course of someone else's life couldn't be an easy thing to do.

The judge stood up then and Cesca's heart leapt in her chest. For a moment, she thought she was going to throw up. She felt a steadying hand on her arm and turned to see a policeman beside her.

'Are you alright?' He whispered 'Do you need to sit down?'

She shook her head. This wasn't the kind of thing she could listen to sitting down. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on what the judge was saying, but he didn't seem to be speaking English anymore. The room around her began to sway.

'Are you sure you don't want to sit down?'

She shook off the steadying hand now. This was something she needed to face alone. The courtroom was slowly coming back into focus, although the blood pounding in her ears was so loud now that she could barely concentrate on anything else. The judge was droning on, his voice as monotonous and loud as two rocks being crashed together again and again. Why couldn't he just get to the point? Why couldn't he just tell her how long she'd have to wait before she could see her family again?

The edges of her vision were becoming dim. She felt as though she was standing at the end of a long dark tunnel and the judge was at the other end. His words were coming through to her now, but they were strangely distorted, faint. It was as if he was speaking to her from very far away or perhaps from the other side of some impenetrable barrier.

'This is clearly an extraordinary case,' he was saying 'It seems much more than a teenage crush gone awry...'

The rush of blood in her ears was back, pounding faster and faster. She hadn't thought it was possible for a heart to beat this fast and not burst. She breathed in sharply and the sudden presence of air in her lungs was dizzying, painful. Her fingers gripped the wooden rail in front of her and the scratching of her nails on the mahogany surface was loud enough to deafen her and yet, the judge seemed so quiet that she could hardly hear him. Still he was droning on.

'...Of course, the welfare of the child, of Beatrice Ruth Kirby, must also be taken into account...'

At the mention of her daughter's name, a fresh wave of nausea swept over Cesca. This time she really was going to throw up. She could feel the bile rising in her throat, white hot and burning. She hastily swallowed and concentrated on the rhythm of her breathing. Her fingers were gripping the rail so hard now that the knuckles had turned white.

'...In light of all this,' the judge was saying 'I have decided that the best course of action is for the defendant to be placed on the sex offenders register and to be given a two year suspended sentence, during which time, if she re-offends by harming another child, she will be sent to prison for the maximum term allowable for the offence, without necessitating a further trial.' He paused and looked straight at Cesca with something approaching a smile on his face. 'Miss Montoya, you're free to go.'

Cesca didn't smile back. She was too stunned. His words were playing over and over again in her head _'suspended sentence'_, _'free to go...'_ Now, finally, her knees gave way and she sagged to the ground, gasping for breath. Her whole body was shaking and tears were running freely down her face. From somewhere which seemed very far away, she could hear the policeman calling her name, could feel someone catching hold of an arm which didn't seem to belong to her anymore. Her heart was pounding so hard now that she felt her chest might shatter. The darkness which had been invading the edges of her vision threatened to swallow her as she clung to consciousness by a thread and still the judge's word were echoing in her mind _'you're free to go...'_

'Cesca?' A new voice, loud and insistent was coming from somewhere nearby.

She groaned and turned towards it. Marcus Kirby was crouching next to her, his dark eyes full of concern.

'I'm sorry...' She whispered although she wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for.

To her surprise, he smiled at her. It wasn't a particularly warm smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. Then his arm, reassuringly strong and solid, was around her shoulders, gently helping her to sit up. 'Come on,' he said softly 'let me take you home.'


	48. Chapter 49

**Part Forty-Nine: Jonah**

Jonah was trying to keep busy, trying desperately to take his mind off the fact that somewhere, not too far away, Cesca's fate was being decided. He played with Beatrice, tidied his room, cleaned the kitchen, played with Beatrice some more, changed the sheets on every bed in the house, did the washing up and then, eventually, ran out of things to do. With a sigh, he took Beatrice in his arms and sank down onto the sofa, holding her close. She too was agitated. She seemed to know that something was wrong. She looked so forlorn and tiny. It was as if the loss of her mother was something tangible – it made her look reduced somehow, like she was missing something. The thought of her growing up without Cesca was unbearable.

He heard the door opening and seemed to freeze in place on the sofa. He wanted to hear what Marcus had to say, but, at the same time, he didn't want to hear it. While the words remained unspoken, he could still hope that Cesca's sentence would be short. The door to the living room was opening now. It was behind the sofa and Jonah didn't turn to look at it, didn't want to see his father's expression. He stared down at Beatrice instead, busying himself with re-arranging her blanket.

'Jonah.' Surely he was hearing things. He knew that voice better than his own, but it was impossible that he should be hearing it here, now.

Slowly, he turned, hardly daring to hope, and felt his breath catch in his throat. There she was, Cesca, standing in the doorway and looking right at him with an expression on her face which wasn't a smile, but was somehow happier and more meaningful than a smile. She looked thinner than he remembered, paler too and older. Her hair was greasy and hanging limp around her face. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her cheeks were hollow and sunken and yet, somehow, she still managed to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He looked deep into her eyes and saw pain there and hurt and loneliness, but he saw love there too, a great, shining love which was directed towards him.

For a moment, they just stared at one another, speechless. And then he was on his feet and she was running forwards in a flurry of desperate motion. Their hands were on each other, exploring each other. She was reassuringly warm and solid. He still held Beatrice in the crook of one arm and Cesca clutched both of them to her, needing to feel the closeness of their bodies. Somehow, in the confusion, the baby was passed to her and Jonah held both of them against his chest. He was kissing her hair; his hands were on her back. He never wanted to move.

She was looking down at the baby in her arms, an expression of wonder on her face. 'She's so big...'

Beatrice was fidgeting and Jonah was worried for a second that she might cry, scared that she wouldn't remember Cesca, would view her as a stranger. Then he realised that Beatrice was moving to bring herself closer to Cesca, was nestling in against her.

'She recognizes you.' He tried and failed to keep the surprise out of his voice

Cesca too seemed surprised. 'I thought she wouldn't.' She was holding Beatrice so tightly that Jonah thought she would never let her go.

He saw then that she was shaking, that her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. Still keeping a hand on her back, he led her to the sofa and sat next to her. She collapsed against him and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as close as he could.

'I've missed you so, so much...' She whispered and tears were running down her face now.

'And I've missed you, I've missed you every moment...'

She raised her head and brought her lips to meet his in a searing kiss. He gasped involuntarily and deepened the kiss, delighting in the feel of her, in the nearness of her. When she drew back from him, she drew back only slightly and she kept her forehead pressed against his.

'Thank you,' she said, very low.

'For what?'

'For waiting for me.'

'Ces...' He pulled away from her so that he could see her face.

'Ces, I'd wait for you forever. I'd want to wait for you forever...'

She kissed him again, her lips moving over his like liquid silk. There was a cough from the doorway and they sprang apart to see Marcus staring at them. Jonah couldn't quite fathom the expression on his father's face. It was somewhere between revulsion and acceptance, anger and understanding.

'I was wondering,' he said, his voice surprisingly calm. 'what the two of you wanted to do now. Cesca, you're welcome to stay here for a bit or I guess the three of you could all head over to your place...' his voice trailed off and his eyes moved across their confused faces. 'On second thoughts, maybe this isn't the right time to be making decisions like that.'

'Thanks, Dad...' Jonah didn't quite know what he was thanking him for, but it seemed appropriate somehow.

Marcus gave an awkward sort of a shrug and then backed out of the room rather stiffly, closing the door behind him.

Jonah looked down at the woman in his arms, feeling a wave of love of a kind he had never felt before. 'So,' he said 'what do you want to do now?'

'Right now, I just want you to hold me.'

Jonah smiled and did as she asked.


	49. Chapter 50

**Part Fifty: Cesca**

Cesca took her time in the shower. She had spent the past few days in Jonah and Marcus' house, just getting used to being free once again, to being with her family once again. The outside world was still a novelty to her. The idea that she could leave the house when she wanted, do whatever she wanted to, go wherever she wanted was invigorating, refreshing.

She ran her fingers through her soft, dark hair, luxuriating in the way the water cascaded off it. Jonah might not have the best taste in shampoo, but it was still far better than anything she'd encountered in prison. She knew she'd have to get out of the shower soon, but she was putting it off for as long as possible. She had to go into school today to see Karen and she was dreading it.

The water ran cold and Cesca took that as a sign that she had to face the inevitable. She opened the shower door and wrapped herself in a large towel, allowing herself a moment to savour its size and softness. Again, it was a world away from the stiff prison towels. She opened the door of the en suite bathroom and there was Jonah, lying on his front in the middle of the bed, playing peek-a-boo with a delighted Beatrice. She just learnt to smile and her smile was enough to light up a room.

'Morning.' Cesca joined them on the bed, planting a kiss on Jonah's cheek and another on Beatrice's head. She loved moments like this. They were so simple, so ordinary, and yet so perfect. They were the moments that most couples would take for granted, but Cesca knew that she never would. She would value every second of her time with Jonah and Beatrice.

'How are you feeling about today?' Jonah asked.

'Not brilliant,' she answered honestly.

His arm went around her shoulders and she let herself lean against him, drawing strength from him. Things were hard right now, but she knew that being with her family was worth every last sacrifice she had to make.

All too soon, the calm of the early morning was over and they were making their way into school, having left Beatrice with Marcus. Cesca felt a strange tug in her chest at leaving her daughter behind, but she took a deep breath and consoled herself with the fact that she would see her again soon.

The school gates loomed in front of them. Cesca's steps faltered, her feet began to drag. Then Jonah had taken hold of her hand and she found the strength to move forwards again. There were students everywhere and all, without exception, were staring at the two of them. For a moment, Cesca seemed to view herself through the eyes of another, to see herself in the third person and she understood their stares. How strange it must look, Miss Montoya and her teenage boyfriend, parading brazenly through the playground. Surprisingly though, the stares weren't hostile, just curious.

At the entrance to the main building, Jonah paused. 'Are you sure you don't me to come with you?'

She shook her head. 'No, love, you have lessons to get to. I'll be fine.'

He didn't argue, but he did lean in to kiss her quickly, drawing even more stares from those around them.

Feeling suddenly very alone, Cesca turned away from him and made her way straight to Karen's office, deciding that it was probably best to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The meeting with Karen was brief, to the point and brutal. She fired Cesca without preamble and without remorse and she made it very clear that she didn't agree with the court's decision not to send Cesca to prison.

Afterwards, Cesca slowly wandered over to the staffroom. She wasn't sure why, but she had to face them all, had to know what they thought of her, just how much they hated her. Her arrival was greeted with a fresh round of stares. Ruby Fry sighed in distaste and turned away. Grantly watched her with morbid fascination. Tom though was smiling.

'Cup of tea?' He asked, holding out a mug.

'That would be lovely.'

She went and sat down beside him as he poured the tea for her. He glanced around at the suddenly silent staffroom. 'Ignore them,' he whispered. 'They'll come around soon enough.'

'Why are you being so nice to me? I was awful to you.'

'What are you talking about? No you weren't.'

'I led you on...'

He laughed. 'Ces, it doesn't matter. I don't think we would have worked as a couple anyway.'

'No, I don't think we would.'

'I'm just glad you're happy.' He paused. 'You are happy, aren't you?'

'I've never been this happy before...'

Cesca looked up at the sound of the door opening and she saw Adanna come into the room. Her heart began to thump in her chest. She had no clue how Adanna would react to her being here, but she valued the other woman's friendship deeply and she didn't want to lose it. Adanna came and sat beside her. Tom looked back and forth between the two women and stood up. 'I'll give you two some space.'

Once he'd gone, the two of them sat in silence for a moment and then both started to speak at the same time.

'Look, Adanna...'

'Cesca, I...'

Realising what had happened, they laughed, and, with the sound of laughter, some of the tension in the room seemed to drain away.

'How's the baby?' Adanna asked, clearly deciding to start with something non-controversial.

'Perfect, she's just perfect.'

'I'm glad.' There was another pause and then, looking at the floor, Adanna continued 'Ces, I don't agree with what you did. Having a relationship with a student was wrong...'

Cesca could feel her heart plummeting. She didn't think she could face losing yet another friend.

Adanna was still speaking. '...But what's done is done. Let's just put it behind us now.'

A smile was beginning to tug at the corners of Cesca's mouth. 'Friends?' She asked, aware that the question was a little childish.

'Friends,' Adanna agreed. 'Did you still want me to be godmother?'

Cesca laughed and nodded, a lump in her throat.


	50. Chapter 51

**Part Fifty-One: Cesca**

As he walked home from school, Jonah reflected on the fact that the most momentous pieces of news always seemed to arrive in the most understated of ways. That morning, Mr. Mead, his form tutor, had handed him a small, plain envelope which had looked so unimportant that he hadn't bothered to even open it until lunchtime, but, when he had, his hands had begun to shake and his heart had started to thump wildly in his chest. It was his final acceptance letter from Oxford University. Up until now, the offer had only been potential, not actual.

All at once, a vista of possibilities seemed to stretch out before his eyes. He could picture himself there, in that beautiful city, riding a bike through crowds of tourists, a bat-like academic gown flying out from his shoulders. Then, just as quickly as the vision had arrived, it was gone. Somehow Cesca and Beatrice didn't seem quite compatible with that picture. Still, it was nice to know that he'd got in, that someone, some professor, had thought him good enough.

Cesca was waiting for him when he arrived home. She was sat on the sofa, singing softly in Spanish to Beatrice. Her voice was high and clear. He didn't understand the words of the song, but something about the tone of it was calming, soothing. He sat down beside her, smiling as he listened to her.

'How did it go with Mrs. Fisher?' he asked when the song came to an end.

Cesca shrugged. 'It was horrible, but I kind of expected that it would be. Adanna and the others were nice though.' She laid her head on his shoulder, a smile spreading across her face 'I think we're going to be ok, you know.'

'I know we are.' He kissed the top of her head, debating whether or not to tell her about Oxford.

'How was your day?'

And suddenly he made up his mind. He had to tell her. They couldn't keep secrets from one another. 'I got this,' he said and passed her the letter.

He watched as she read it, her dark eyes moving quickly over the page, her expression unreadable. 'Jonah…This is amazing…'

All at once he was embarrassed. 'It's not that great…'

'Yes it is. And I've always liked Oxford.

Now he was confused. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean I like it, as a city. To move to. It'll be a nice place for Beatrice to grow up.'

'Move to?'

'Well, yes,' she said matter-of-factly. 'We'll have to move there. I mean you can hardly commute from Rochdale.'

He looked down at her, still not quite understanding her meaning. 'You mean you think I should take the place?'

She seemed surprised by the question. 'Of course you're going to take the place.'

'But, Ces…' All the reasons why he couldn't, shouldn't swam around in his mind. How could he go to university with a baby? How would he manage away from Marcus and Ruth? Where would they live? He finally settled on the most obvious reason of all 'We don't have any money.'

'I have savings. And I was doing some research last night. There are all kinds of grants available for people with families who want to go to uni…'

'But what will you do?' He somehow couldn't see Cesca being content with staying at home and looking after the baby.

'There's a law conversion course I was looking at, at Oxford Brookes. And it's funded so that would give us some extra money.'

'Law?' He was surprised. This was the fist time she'd mentioned it.

'Well, I'll have to re-train as something and I've always liked the idea of being a lawyer. Besides, I have first hand experience of the criminal justice system…'

He laughed. 'You might not want to put that on your application.'

'I'd like to have the chance to help people like me, people who haven't done anything wrong, but end up in court anyway.'

'I think you'd make a great lawyer.' He paused. 'It would be strange to leave Rochdale. I've never lived anywhere else.'

'I think it might be good for us to have a new start, go somewhere where people don't know us, where they won't judge us.'

He could see the sense in that. And she was right; it would be a nice change to walk down the street without being stared at.

'So,' he said, pulling her closer 'Oxford it is?'

'Oxford it is,' she agreed.

He smiled as the picture of Oxford returned, only this time it was even better than before, because, this time, Cesca and Beatrice were there with him.


	51. Chapter 52

_Author's note: Well, here's the last part. I hope it's ok! And thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting on this – I really appreciate it!_

**Epilogue: Cesca**

_Eighteen Years Later_

Cesca was trying not to cry. She knew that she had no real reason to be sad, but she couldn't help feeling bittersweet. Today was the end of an era, the best era she could have imagined. Today, her daughter was leaving her to make her own way in the world, forge a life for herself. Cesca was so proud that it almost hurt and yet, at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a stab of sadness.

She looked up at her daughter. Bea had been taller than her since the age of twelve and now, at eighteen, she positively towered over her mother. She still looked more like Jonah than Cesca, but she had Cesca's wide dark eyes and gently curling hair. There was a hint of tears in Bea's expression too, but they were almost eclipsed by a kind of all-pervading determination. Cesca slipped an arm around Bea's waist and the girl leaned her head on Cesca's shoulder. They stood in silence for a moment, just looking around them.

They were standing in front of the same black iron gates which Jonah had walked through so many years ago as a student. Now Bea would follow him. All around them was a frantic scurry of movement, a sea of students carrying bags and suitcases, anxious parents saying goodbyes, all the hustle and bustle of the first day of freshers' week. Jonah was with them too, on the other side of Bea, holding the hands of her little sisters, Rosa and Summer. There was a certain nostalgia in his eyes as he watched the scene before them.

'I guess I should go,' Bea's voice was quiet. Usually she smiled and laughed all the time and it was strange to hear her sounding so unsure.

Cesca reached up and pulled her into a hug, no longer able to stop a few stray tears running down her cheeks. She hastily brushed them away with the back of her hand, not wanting Bea to see.

Bea hugged her father too and then her sisters. 'I'm going to miss you,' she said, trying to force a smile.

'No you won't,' Cesca somehow kept her voice steady. 'It's freshers' week. You won't have time to miss us.'

'And if you do miss us, you can always come home. We only live on the other side of town.' Even Jonah was sounding a bit choked up now.

'And call us whenever you need to. Anytime. Day or night.'

'I love you all,' Bea said softly. She sounded sad, but there was also an undercurrent of excitement in her voice.

'We love you too, darling,' Cesca kissed her on the cheek and then she was gone, threading her way through the crowds of students.

Cesca felt Jonah's arm go around her waist and she leant against him, finding reassurance in his presence. A small hand gripped hers and she looked down to find Rosa staring up at her. She held out her other hand to Summer, feeling a wave of protectiveness for them wash over her. At least they wouldn't be leaving for a long time. Summer wasn't even old enough to go to school yet.

'She'll be alright, you know.' Jonah was always so calm. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

'I know she will and I'm glad she's here because she'll have a wonderful time, but it's still hard to let go.'

Jonah kissed the top of her head, drawing her in closer. 'Let's go home,' he said.

'Yes, let's.'

They made their way along the High Street, all four of them holding hands in a long line. As she walked, Cesca found herself starting to smile. Bea hadn't left forever and she still had Jonah and Rosa and little Summer. A bright late afternoon sun was shining, picking out the highlights in the girls' hair, the reds and golds of the autumn leaves on the ground. She was struck by how beautiful the world was, how beautiful her family were.

She turned to look at Jonah, studying him as he leaned down to talk to Summer. He was in his mid-thirties now and the years had lent his a certain wisdom, an air of authority which hadn't been there before. Other than that, his face had changed very little. He still had that same easy smile and effortless charm. Over the years, her love for him had grown stronger, deepened. They were two halves of the same thing. There were things that each of them lacked and each of them provided. Loving Jonah was like clinging to a steady rock in the middle of a raging river; it was deep and elemental and constant. They needed each other in the same way that people need air and light. They had both sacrificed so much to be together, but neither of them regretted it for an instant.

And, over time, people had come to accept them. Adanna had been there for them through everything. Ronan and Vicki and Jess had always been frequent visitors. Cesca's family, always liberal and unconventional, had been accepting from the start, as had Marcus and Ruth, but Jonah's mother had been harder to convince. She'd come around though, after Rosa was born seven years ago. No one stared at them anymore. They were no longer Jonah and Miss Montoya or the Spanish teacher and the pupil she'd slept with. Now they were just Jonah and Cesca.

Cesca glanced around her. They had turned off the High Street now and were walking in the direction of Jericho, the suburb of Oxford where they had lived for the past ten years. She loved this city. They had found their freedom in Oxford. They had found an oasis for themselves amongst the bustling academics and crowds of tourists and the throngs of students. Cesca's smile widened as they passed the university building where Jonah worked. He was Dr. Kirby now and he spent his days writing books and lecturing students about, ironically enough, Spanish. Nearby was the law firm where she was now a partner.

They reached home and settled into the familiar routine of a Sunday afternoon. Later, when the shadows had lengthened and afternoon had gradually faded into an evening which was surprisingly warm for October, she stood in the doorway of Summer's room, watching the child sleep and feeling relaxed, content. Jonah slipped up silently behind her and put his arms around her waist, drawing her in close to him.

'I love you, Ces,' he whispered.

'I love you too.'

She turned in his arms and kissed him, each of them finding comfort in the other.

'Mummy, I can't sleep.' The voice was Summer's.

Cesca smiled and made her way into Summer's room, Jonah following close behind. She picked up her youngest daughter and then, holding her close, she softly began to sing a Spanish lullaby.


End file.
